Blizzard read his note three times; it was very friendly. The "Yours
sincerely" touched his imagination. Especially the "Yours."
"Yours," he said, "mine," and with a sudden idiocy of passion he crushed
the note to his lips. And then, as if with remorse at having been rough
with a helpless thing, he smoothed out the crumpled sheet, and placed
it, together with its envelope, in that pocket which was nearest to his
heart. Then he seated himself on the edge of the model's platform, laid
his crutches aside, closed his eyes, and for perhaps five minutes slept,
motionless as a statue, except that now and then his ears twitched. At
the end of five minutes, he waked, greatly refreshed, and ready, if the
need should arise, to sit up the whole of the following night.
There was a sound of a man's steps mounting the stairs. And then a brisk
knocking on the studio door.
"Come in," said Blizzard.
Dr. Ferris entered, hesitated, and then closed the door behind him.
"You'll pardon me," said Blizzard coolly, "if I don't get up?"
"Yes--yes," said Dr. Ferris, and in his handsome eyes was a look of
pain and pity.
"It isn't easy for me to get up," Blizzard continued in the same cool,
emotionless voice, "you can see for yourself. I can't spring to my
feet--like other men. Do you know who I am?"
"Yes," said Dr. Ferris, "I'm afraid I do. But they told me the name of
the man who has been posing for Miss Ferris was Blizzard. Your name--"
"My name," said Blizzard, "is forgotten."
Dr. Ferris bowed gravely. "Quite so, Mr. Blizzard," he said.
"Miss Barbara," said Blizzard, watching closely the effect upon the
older man of the familiarity, "will not be here till eleven. And as you
and I cannot possibly have anything pleasant to say to each other, and
as you, although the older man, are far better off than I am for means
of locomotion, and as even _thinking_ of you has something the effect
upon my stomach that mustard and warm water would have--"
"If you have any mercy in your heart," said Dr. Ferris, his mouth
distorted with emotion, "don't talk to me that way. What made a hell of
your life has made a hell of mine."
The look of cold hatred in Blizzard's face changed at once to curiosity.
"Really?" he said; "you mean that?"
"It is the truth."
Blizzard considered, and then shook his head. "No," he said, "it
couldn't be the same. It may have stretched you on the hot grid now and
then, but between times of remorse you've had long, long stretches of
success and happiness. I haven't. I have burned in hell fires from that
day to this."
"I told you on that day," said the surgeon, "that if there was ever
anything under heaven that I could do for you, I would do it. You've
never called upon me for anything--money--or service."
"I've not forgotten," said Blizzard, "and some day I may hold you to
your word. Right here and now I will ask something of you--an absolutely
truthful answer to a question. Do you hate me?"
Dr. Ferris turned the question over in his conscience, and presently
said: "I am sorry. Yes."
"Thank you," said Blizzard, who was not in the least disturbed. "I've
often wondered, and even, putting a hypothetical case, thrashed the
matter out with my friends. You _would_ hate me. It's thoroughly human.
With me, for instance--I feel non-committal about a man. I decide to
injure him. I do so. _And then_ I hate him. Now, if you have any message
for Miss Barbara--or perhaps you came to see the bust. I will call
Bubbles. He and Miss Barbara are the only persons allowed to touch the
cloths. I think she'd let me uncover the thing, but, as you and I know
so well, I am not tall enough."
"My business with my daughter," said Dr. Ferris, "concerned you."
Blizzard chuckled. "Her friends," said he, "have been at you to
interfere. They have persuaded you that her model should be _persona non
grata_ in the best studios. They have, in short, begged you to take me
by the scruff of the neck and kick me out into the gutter where I
belong. Well, kick me. You know as well as I do, that I can't
kick back."
"You hurt me very much," said Dr. Ferris simply, "if that is any
pleasure to you."
"It is," said Blizzard.
"What your intuition has told you," continued Barbara's father, "is the
truth. I had made up my mind to interfere."
"Well, why should you?"
"I have heard terrible things about you, Mr. Blizzard."
"That I have done things which the world regards as terrible is true,"
returned the legless man imperturbably. "What of it? Haven't you?"
Dr. Ferris turned away and slowly paced the length of the studio and
back. "I owe you," he then said, "anything you choose to ask. But that
is not the whole of my obligation to this world as I see it."
"You will oblige me," said Blizzard, "by spitting out the moral homily
into which you are trying to get your teeth. It is very simple. I do not
wish to be sent away. I ask you not to send me. If your statement that
you owe me anything I choose to ask amounts to two pins' worth, I think
that I shall continue to pose for your daughter as long as she
needs me."
"Oh, I'm quite helpless," said Dr. Ferris; "I realize that."
"Spoken like a man," said Blizzard. "And to show that my nature isn't
entirely cruel, I'll tell you for your comfort that in Miss Barbara's
presence the bad man is a very decent sort. We are almost friends,
Doctor, she and I. She talks to me as if I were her equal. As for me, in
this studio I have learned the habit of innocent thought. Only yesterday
I took pleasure in the idea that in the world there are birds, and
flowers, and green fields."
The beggar's eyes glittered with a sardonic look. He watched the surgeon
as a tiger might watch a stag. There was quite a long silence. Dr.
Ferris broke it.
"For God's sake," he said with great energy, "tell me one truth. Is it
part of your scheme of life to revenge yourself on me through my
daughter?"
Blizzard raised a soothing hand. "Dr. Ferris," he said, "what would
cause you suffering would cause her suffering. So, you see, I am tied
hand and--Pardon me! I shouldn't now think of hurting you through her
unless it might be for her own happiness."
"I don't understand."
"Then you don't understand the hearts of women. Then you know nothing of
the heights to which even fallen men can raise their eyes."
"What are you telling me?"
"Very little--very much. Perhaps I love your daughter."
Horror and loathing swept into the surgeon's eyes, but he controlled
himself. "Mr. Blizzard," said he presently, "I find it hard to take you
seriously. _Are_ you joking? Whether you are or not, the thing is a
joke. If you really care for my daughter, I am very, very sorry for you.
I can't say more. If nothing worse threatens her than the possibility of
her heart being touched by you, there is no need for me to be anxious
about her. As for telling her the truth about you and me, why not?"
"_You_ tell her."
"I will. To-night"
"Won't you be playing into my hands?"
"No," said the surgeon curtly, "she has too much common-sense."
"But you won't tell her what I've said?" The beggar was suddenly
anxious.
"No," and Dr. Ferris smiled, "I may safely leave that to you."
"Damnation," cried Blizzard, "you are laughing at me."
Dr. Ferris's face became serious at once. "God forbid that!" he said.
"If you have spoken sincerely I feel only sorrow for you and pity--more
sorrow and pity for you even than I ever felt before."
"S-s-s-s-t," exclaimed the beggar, and his ears twitched. "She's
coming."
"I shall wait," said Dr. Ferris, "and take her uptown, when she has
finished working."
"Well," said Blizzard, with a kind of humorous resignation, "I'd kick
you out if I could; but I can't." And he added: "You haven't got an
extra pair of legs about you, have you?"
"Why!" said Barbara when she saw her father. "Art _is_ looking up.
_You_ in a studio!"
Secretly his presence pleased her immensely. She had always hoped that
some day he would take enough interest in her work to come to see it
uninvited. And she now felt that this had happened. And she thanked
Blizzard with sincerity for having waited.
"Mr. Blizzard and I," she told her father, "are doing a bust. And
whatever anybody else thinks, we think it's an affair of great
importance. Mr. Blizzard even gives me his time and his judgment
for nothing."
"Well," Dr. Ferris smiled, "I am willing to give you the latter, on the
same terms. May I see what you've done?"
Barbara removed the cloths from the bust, and so life-like and tragic
was the face which suddenly confronted him that Dr. Ferris, instead of
stepping forward to examine it closely, stepped backward as if he had
been struck. And then:
"My dear," he said gravely, "the thing's alive."
He looked from the bust to his daughter, and felt as if he was meeting
some very gifted and important person for the first time. Barbara
laughed for sheer pleasure.
"What do you think of it?"
"I will buy it as it stands," said her father, "on your own terms."
"If you think it's good now," said Blizzard quietly, "wait till it's
finished."
"If I had done it," said Dr. Ferris, "I wouldn't dare touch it."
"Yes, you would," said Barbara, "if you knew that you could make it
better. It's still a beginning."
"When do you expect to finish?"
"I'm going to keep on working until I know that I've done the best I
can. We may be months on it."
Blizzard smiled secretly, and Dr. Ferris managed to conceal his
annoyance.
"I wish, my dear," he said, "that I had taken you more seriously in the
beginning. But it is not too late to get some advantage by studying in
Paris and Rome."
"I don't believe it's ever too late for that," said Barbara, "and of
course I've always been crazy for the chance, but knowing how
you felt--"
"Say the word," said her father, "and you shall go to-morrow."
Blizzard's face was like stone; he felt that his high hopes were on a
more precarious footing than ever. If she had the whim, Barbara would go
abroad, far beyond the reach of even his long arms.
"You could finish your bust any time," said Dr. Ferris persuasively.
But Barbara shook her head with complete decision. "A bird in the hand,"
she said, "is worth two in the bush. And--I hope I'm wrong--but I have
the conviction that this head is going to be the best thing I shall ever
do. I can look at it quite impersonally, because half the time it seems
to model itself. _I_ think it's going to be good. If it is good, it
will be one of those lucky series of accidents that sometimes happen to
undeserving but lucky people."
Dr. Ferris sighed inwardly, but the expression of his face did not
change. "Do you mind if I stay?" he asked. "I think it's time I knew
what you look like when you are at work, don't you?"
"_High_ time!" exclaimed Barbara. "I'll just get into my apron." She
went into the next room and closed the door.
"Your innocents abroad," said the legless man, "wasn't a success." His
face was a jeer.