_Beela Undergoes a Transformation. The Uprising of the People.
Contrition of Beela. I Declare Myself. An Amazing Disclosure by the
King._
WHAT news, my friend?” I cheerily inquired.
“We’ll go to the king’s reception-room and talk,” she answered, looking
at Christopher. “Dear old Christopher!” she said, deep and sweet.
“Yes,” I remarked; “I left the king in the anteroom.” Christopher and I
followed her into the reception-room.
“He’s not there now,” she replied, seating herself, “but with the
queen. Christopher, go and stand down the corridor, opposite the queen’s
apartments, and wait for the king. Those lunatics may break loose again
when they hear the mob outside the wall.”
He started.
“Christopher!” she called. He turned. “Do you love me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s all.”
I had never seen her so calm and steady, so rich in ultimate qualities,
so little the volatile, meteoric, yet wise child-woman who had been
my sunshine, my tease, my playfellow. She had become a composed and
gracious woman. It came to me with something like pain that this was the
truer and finer Beela. There was another feeling,--one of a great need
in my life.
She wore a becoming dress that might have suited either a woman or a
man; but everything about her spoke of the sweetness and grace that only
a lovely woman can have. I was tired of the foolish Beelo sham. We had
grown too near for me longer to tolerate that absurd barrier.
“Now for your news, dear Beela,” I asked.
There was the slightest start when she heard that pronunciation of the
name, but she did not turn to me at once.
“When the earthquake began,” she said, “I ran to the queen, for such
things frighten her dreadfully. After it was over there came the uproar
by the servants. I locked the queen’s apartments and kept them out.
But their noise frightened her even more than the earthquake, for they
battered her doors. It wouldn’t do to admit them. Presently the king
came by the private entrance, and although he was badly shaken, the
necessity to comfort the queen brought him composure. They are together
and quiet now. Then I came to this corridor, where the servants were
massed against the door. I could do nothing with them. For a moment I
was frightened when the door opened, but when I saw what Christopher’s
plan was, I knew that all was safe. I went then and secured the gates
opening to the palace grounds.”
“And what’s ahead, Beela?”
“The worst,” she quietly answered, but gave me a slow, mischievous look
over that repetition of her feminine name. “We have a little time before
the king comes,” she brightly added, “and we need it to rest.” There was
a challenge in her glance.
“But the mob is coming!” I protested.
“The king told me that you and Christopher and I should be quiet till it
assembles. Then he will come, for you.”
I drew up my stool facing her, took both her hands, and said:
“I have a confession to make, dear friend.”
“Really, Joseph?” she exclaimed in mock alarm, pronouncing the name
perfectly.
“You know. And you’ve been only pretending that English wasn’t perfectly
familiar to you.”
She gave a musical, purring little laugh. Any man would deserve great
credit for self-restraint in resisting it--and the chin. Thenceforward
she spoke in English of the purest accent.
“What’s the confession, Joseph?”
“I’ve known something for a long time, Beela, and I’ve been deceiving
you with thinking that I didn’t know; but I did so because you evidently
wished me to be deceived. Everything might have gone wrong if I had
betrayed my knowledge to you. But it has served its time. You will
forgive me for deceiving you,--dear?”
All that went to make her a miracle of precious womanhood was vibrant.
There was the same sweet flutter that I had seen before in her velvety
throat. Of course she enjoyed her little triumph of knowing that even
for a time her deception had prospered, and she was a-thrill with the
recollection of it. After that came contrition. A half-smile lingered on
her lips, though her eyes were rueful.
“You are good and generous, Joseph, for not giving me a chiding word;
and I don’t think there is the least of it in your big heart.”
“Chiding, sweet girl? I understood your feeling for the necessity of the
deception. Your wish is my law, and to serve it is less a duty than a
privilege.”
There was a slight puzzle in the glow that flooded her heavenly eyes.
“You found it out all by yourself, Joseph?”
“Yes, dear.”
“That is remarkable. Neither Christopher nor Annabel gave you the
smallest hint? They knew.”
“Not the smallest.” The hurt of their keeping the secret from me must
have shown in my face, for Beela laughed teasingly. It restored me.
“You pledged Annabel not to tell me,” I said, “and Christopher is
silent,--and a gentleman. Is that the explanation?”
“Yes.” A soft embarrassment crept over her, and she gently withdrew her
hands and sat regarding me in sweet content. “I also have a confession
to make, Joseph.” She tried hard to look just a trifle anxious. “What,
dear?”
“Joseph!” she cried, frowning and stamping; “how can I think when _that_
is in your eyes and your voice! I won’t look, and I won’t listen.” She
turned her shoulder to me.
“What is in my eyes and my voice, dear?”
She sat still a moment, and then slowly turned her head a trifle and
peered at me as if baffled.
“You mustn’t tease me, Joseph.”
She saw my smile and again turned away.
“What is the confession?” I asked.
“Let’s go back to the beginning. There were two real reasons why I posed
as a boy. One was that it gave me more freedom of limb for going through
the forest and for scaling the valley wall, and the other was that it
made me less conspicuous to the guards,--I could have escaped if they
had detected me. On my word, dear Joseph, I never intended to deceive
you long about that.”
She cautiously looked round at me, for I was silent. A cheap resentment
at learning that I had been unnecessarily tricked must have betrayed
itself, for the dear girl took my hands.
“Joseph,------” she began.
“Then why did you keep it up, dear?” I asked.
“Joseph, the time was when your want of perception was mistaken by me
for dulness, for obtuseness,--for such a lack of understanding as makes
a man or a woman not worth while. But I discovered that it was not
dulness at all. For a time I refused to believe that a human being could
have what I saw in you.”
If I have ever seen wondering fondness it was in her eyes.
“What was it, dear?” I asked uneasily.
“Your trust which sees only the true, and, unwittingly taking into your
heart the false with the true, makes the false true with your trust.”
I was silent with the deep thankfulness that God had sent such a woman
into the world and into my meager life.
“So, Joseph, I prolonged that deception until all doubt of what you are
was gone. I am glad that I did, and am sorry that I can think of no more
tests.” There was a dash of her dear mischief in that speech. “And now
that this is a time of confession and understanding,--you started it,
remember,--I must say that one of the deceptions played on you------They
were really harmless, weren’t they, dear Joseph?”
“Perfectly,” I smiled.
“----that one of them was unnecessary. It was _such_ fun to play those
pranks on you, Joseph! I couldn’t help it. I know it was wicked, but you
were always gentle and kind, and I knew you would forgive me. Joseph,
you would forgive me _anything_, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, dear heart.”
“It was delicious to see you walking so trustingly through the
complications that beset you.”
“Dear!” I cried, my senses afloat and my arms aching for her; “I am only
human. Your sweetness----”
She pushed back her chair before my advance.
“And you don’t know in the least,” she went flying on, “how often I had
to leap from one of my selves to the other, and how exciting it was.”
I was getting little out of her chatter except the music of her voice
and the picture of loveliness that she made.
“Don’t you care to know which of the deceptions was unnecessary?” she
demanded, trying to look injured.
“Indeed I do.”
She came and stood beside me, gazing down into my face and clasping my
hand warmly in both her own.
“Beela,” she answered.
“Beela?” after a mystified pause; then, thinking that she was teasing, I
laughed.
She appeared much relieved, and brightly said: “I’m glad you understand
and forgive me.... But you resented her at first.”
“Beelo had become very precious, dear, and so my readjustments where you
are concerned are slow. But a new fondness grew with Beela’s coming.”
“Poor Joseph! And _she_ wasn’t necessary. I am sorry now that I----”
“_She?_ Who?”
“Beela.”
I was a little taken aback, but came to my feet with a dazzling
consciousness that all the glories of earth were packed into this
moment.
“Not at first, dear,” I said, “but in time she became more necessary
than my life. My heart sits in gratitude at Lentala’s feet for sending
me her sweet sister.”
She was stricken into a statue, and was staring at me as at some strange
creature from another planet.
I stood in silent misery. How had I hurt her?
She took a turn of the room, and flung herself on her knees at the
couch, buried her face in her arms, and went into laughter mingled with
sobs. I seated myself on the couch and laid a caressing hand on her
head.
“Beela,” I pleaded, “forgive me. Let me know what I have done that hurt
you.”
“No,” she cried. “I wouldn’t for all the world! My heart is breaking
with gladness!”
Surely no other mortal could have put such startling contradictions into
so few words. My hand found hers; she caught it tight.
“You dear old Joseph!” she said. “Choseph, Choseph!”
It was plainly hysteria; the brave soul had been on a breaking strain
too long. I drew her to me, bent her head to my shoulder, and pressed my
cheek to hers.
“Dear heart!” I said.
She made no resistance, and gradually grew quiet.
“Sweet,” I went on, “we have been through many trials together, and
there are more ahead. The days were dark till Beelo came. He stole into
my heart with hope, courage, and love. A shock came when he passed. I
don’t know, but perhaps I never should have loved you but for him. He
was the sunny highway leading to you; and now I have the daring to lay
my love and my life at your feet.”
The sigh that drifted through her parted lips had no threat for my
anxiety, but she did not answer. Her hand gently drew mine down from her
cheek, and she rose. She studied me a moment.
“Let’s talk, Joseph. Perhaps we have been hasty.” I noted the patient
weariness in her voice. She sat beside me, and after a short silence
resumed: “I have never loved a man till------It hasn’t been possible
here. But you have known beautiful, lovely women.”
“Yes.”
“And liked them very much.”
“Very much.”
Her glance fell, and a little quiver crossed her lips.
“You have known Annabel a long time. You were close to her; you and she
talked long and often.”
“Yes.”
“She is beautiful and sweet.”
“Exceptionally so.”
“And accomplished--and gracious--and has good manners and a velvet
voice.”
“All of that.”
“And she’s kind--and gentle--and has high principles.”
“True.”
“She belongs to your people, your world.”
I only smiled.
“Joseph,” raising her sad eyes to mine, “you have loved her once, and
now love me?”
“I have never loved Annabel, dear heart, but I do love you.”
“Why haven’t you loved her? How could you help it?”
“Because I was waiting for you.”
“You have never told her that you loved her?”
“No. But, dear Beela, I can’t discuss Annabel in this way.”
Her eyes blazed. “She loves you!”
“That is not true; and no one has the right to say such a thing of a
woman without knowing that her love is returned.”
Beela bit her lip, and came stiffly to her feet.
“You are unkind!” she exclaimed. “I have a right--a woman’s right--to
reasons for believing what is incredible without them.”
The picture of outraged dignity that she made was so ravishing that I
feared my adoration would override the sternness which I had taken so
much trouble to set in my face.
“What is incredible, dear?”
She impatiently turned away. I think she did it to hide a smile, but
she was too wary to answer. Instead, she drew from her bosom the little
toilet case I had given Lentala on the day of the feast, and gravely
examined her reflection.
“If I were beautiful like Annabel,------” she began.
“Beela!”
“------or Lentala, and------”
“Beela!”
“------and were pink and white------”
“Beela!”
She made exactly such a face at herself in the mirror as Lentala had, and
suddenly turned on me.
“Joseph, Lentala used to be beautiful and good and true, and an angel.”
“She is all of that yet.”
She returned the case to her bosom.
“I think you nearly loved her once.”
My tongue was silent. Beela laughed mischievously; little devils were
dancing in her eyes.
“Joseph, I’m serious. Reflect because it wouldn’t be wise to act hastily
now and suffer for the rest of life. Annabel would make a perfect wife.
She would play no pranks and childish deceptions. You understand her and
she knows you. I’m only a wild, uncouth savage.”
“Anything more, dear?” I wearily asked.
She gathered breath to resume: “And there’s Lentala. She is to be a
queen some day, and very rich. With rank and wealth, she would be a
shining woman in America, and her husband would be the happiest man in
the world; for with all of that he would have the far richer treasure of
her love.”
“A worthy man will come to her some day, Beela.”
“Didn’t you think she was--was fascinating?”
“I do think so.”
“Reflect again, Joseph: Would you prefer her poor, obscure, wild little
sister?”
“Yes. But what right have we to make so free with Lentala’s name,
especially as she is foreign to the matter?”
Again Beela was offended, but she controlled herself.
“You would be ashamed of me with people of your kind.”
“You alone are of my kind, dear Beela; and shame for you would be shame
for myself, shame for all that is precious to me.”
“Suppose, Joseph, that I should refuse to leave this island.”
“The highest privilege of my life would be to stay here with you.”
She stood in a melting happiness.
Her rosy mouth was conveniently near. I should have been a fool to let
the opportunity pass, and she was not on her guard. She drew back too
late. The dignity with which she came to her feet had a new tenderness.
I also rose. She gazed at me with a wistfulness that searched all
the hidden places in my soul. Never had she been so lovely as in this
moment.
“Dear Joseph, take more time. There is something... you don’t know,
though I... thought you understood. Now I dare not------A great fear
fills me.”
“Love knows no fear, sweetheart.”
“Not for itself, but for its loved ones. Joseph, will you forgive me?
It was a foolish thing to do, and I am very, very sorry. Your trust has
shamed me. Dear Joseph, I------But first let me tell you something else.
The colony must now be marching out of the valley, for I told Captain
Mason that a severe earthquake would be his signal for starting at once.
Annabel is coming, and------”
The door opened to the king and Christopher. His Majesty, anxious and
broken though he was, gave us an approving smile,--perhaps from what he
read in our faces.
“My maddened people are gathering,” he said. “It was wise of you to
lock the gates, my child. When the crowd grows larger it will begin an
assault. That will be the time for me to appear. I will call out the
soldiers from the crowd and put them under your command.”
That surprised me. “Pardon me, Sire. I understood your Majesty to say an
hour ago that _Lentala_ was to have command.”
“So I did.”
“But your Majesty has just said that _Beela_ is to have it.”
“Beela? I couldn’t have said that, as I don’t know any such person.”
I was dismayed at the king’s apparent condition, and Beela in great
perturbation was trying to speak. The man must be roused from his shaken
state.
“This is Beela, Sire, Lentala’s sister.”
“She has no sister,” he answered clearly, and turned sharply on Beela.
“Lentala, have you been playing one of your pranks?” He hurried her away
as she was trying to speak.