VOICES IN THE DARK
Captain Stubbs' cottage was one of the show places of the town.
Built before the Revolution, it was of typical English rural
architecture--one-storied, with a square chimney, and with a garden
which made it the delight of artists who came from far and near to paint
it; in the spring crocuses starred the borders, violets studded the lawn
with amethyst, pale irises and daffodils, narcissus and jonquils stood
in slim beauty. Later came sweet peas, and the roses followed, hiding
with their beauty the weather-beaten boards. The late summer brought
nasturtiums in all their richness of orange and bronze-brown, and in the
fall, the dahlias blazed.
The captain lived alone, attending to his domestic affairs in a fashion
which was the envy of less spick and span housekeepers. He would not
have his home invaded by prying folk, but to his invited and welcome
guests he would show his carved ivories, his embroideries, heavy with
gold, his dragon-encircled jars and vases. Everywhere was the charm of
shining neatness, and flowers were everywhere.
"I think I should have looked for a wife," the captain had told Bettina
and Miss Matthews one day when they had lunched with him, "if it hadn't
been for my flowers. I don't need a wife to cook for me. I'm a better
cook than most women. And I don't need a wife to mend my clothes,
because every sailor can handle a needle. And I don't need a wife to
keep the house clean for me--there isn't any woman on earth that makes
things shine like a man who has been taught to rub brasses and scrub
down decks. What I'd need a wife for would be to make things pretty, and
to look pretty herself. But Lord, I ain't the kind to attract a pretty
woman--and so I just gave it up."
A faint glimmer of resentment had shone in Miss Matthews' eyes. "I guess
most women are kept so busy that they haven't time to think about their
looks."
"Well, if I had a wife," the captain had said, "I'd like to have her
wear bright things. My mother had dimity dresses--there was a pink one,
like a rose, and a green one that looked like the young grass in the
spring, and there was one that made me think of forget-me-nots, or the
sky when there isn't a cloud in it."
Bettina had smiled at him. "How pretty your mother must have been."
"It wasn't that she was so pretty; it was her soft, quiet ways, and
those bright-colored roses. And I've been looking for that kind of woman
ever since."
"If your mother," little Miss Matthews had told him, "had lived in this
day of shirt-waists and short skirts, she'd probably be wearing high
collars and sad colors with the rest of us."
The emphasis with which the little lady had offered her opinion and the
flush on her face had made Bettina look at her with awakened eyes.
"Why--I believe she likes him. She'd be really nice-looking if she'd fix
her hair----"
To-day, as Miss Matthews stopped for a moment at the captain's gate to
admire his sweet peas, she was not even "nice-looking." She was pale and
thin, and had a hoarse cough.
"I'm going home and to bed," she said. "I took cold that day in the
rain, captain, and it hasn't left me since, and I took more cold
yesterday, going to school without my overshoes."
"You come right in, and I'll make you a cup of tea," said the captain,
hospitably. But Miss Matthews refused, wearily.
As she turned away, however, Mrs. Martens came to get the flowers which
were the captain's daily offering for Diana's table, and the little man
extended a beaming invitation to both of them.
"You pick your posies," he said, "and I'll get some tea for you and
bring it right out here. You make her stay, Mrs. Martens; she needs a
rest."
Sophie smiled at the little teacher. "You ought not to be out at all,"
she said, sympathetically.
"School closes in four days," explained little Miss Matthews; "after
that I think I shall fall down and die, but I've got to keep up until
then."
As the two women stood there at the gate together, they presented a
striking contrast: Sophie in her black, modish garments, with the look
upon her face of the woman who has been loved, and who has bloomed
because of it; Miss Matthews, a faded shadow of what she might have been
if love had not passed her by.
"How's Betty?" Miss Matthews asked, as she sat down on a bench on the
little covered porch, and watched Sophie's slender fingers pull the
sweet peas.
Sophie straightened up. "I'm worried about her," she said. "She and
Anthony Blake went to see the air-ships, and I had a telephone message
from Anthony that he had had a hurry call, and that Justin would look
after Betty. That was two hours ago, and Betty hadn't returned when I
left to come here----"
Captain Stubbs, appearing with a big loaded tray, gave important
information.
"Did she have on a white dress?"
"Yes."
"Then she's gone flying with Justin Ford."
"What?" Sophie stood up, and all the fragrant blooms fell at her feet.
"Oh, surely he wouldn't take Betty up with him. It would be dreadful."
"Now, don't you worry," said the captain; "he ain't goin' to let a hair
of her head get hurt--he's daffy over her."
"Daffy?" Sophie stared.
"Yep." The captain set his tray on the rustic table. "He and that Betty
child went with me and Miss Matthews for a day's fishin', and at first
we didn't notice anything, but after a while we began to open our
eyes--and, well, we ain't blind, are we, Miss Matthews?"
Miss Matthews, drinking her tea thirstily, took up the captain's story.
"It rained, and the captain and I wrapped up and stayed by the boat. But
those young folks ran off, and he was helping her along, and she was
looking up at him--and--everybody knows what's going to happen when two
people look at each other that way."
"And if they are flying," the captain chuckled, "they're probably as
near heaven as it's possible to be this side of the pearly gates."
But Sophie would not treat the subject lightly. "It's bad enough for a
man to fly," she said, "but he had no right to take that child up with
him. Where did you see them, captain?"
"I was standing on those rocks out there, and I saw him rise up over the
harbor. I could see that he had someone with him, so I went in, and got
my glass, and sure enough, there she was, all in white, with a white
veil wrapped tight about her head."
"Which way did they go?"
"Straight out beyond the harbor, and up toward Gloucester way--but don't
you worry, Mrs. Martens; they'll be back before they know it."
"But I do worry," Sophie declared, "and I shall certainly tell Justin
what I think of his foolhardiness."
"Well, you take your tea," said the captain, soothingly, "and I'll call
up and see if they have come in."
Taking tea with the captain meant the tasting of many strange and
wonderful flavors. The little man had clung to all the traditions of his
seagoing forefathers, who had brought back from the Orient spicy things
and sweet things--conserved fruits and preserved ginger, queer nuts in
syrup, golden-flavored tea, and these he served with thick slices of
buttered bread of his own making.
"You might have had a lobster," he said to Sophie, "if it hadn't been so
near your dinner time. I've got 'em fresh cooked."
But Sophie shook her head. "I like your sweet things better. Bobbie and
I are the ones who don't like lobster. He says that I'm a sort of oasis
in a desert of shell-fish."
"He's got a nice boat," said the captain, "and he's got a nice girl. I
like Doris."
Sophie's mind went back to Bettina. "Oh, will you telephone, please,
captain?"
The captain came back with the news that nothing had been seen of the
"Gray Gull," but that there was no need to worry, as the day was
perfectly calm, and that, as he had Miss Dolce with him, he would
certainly not fly high.
Sophie refused to be comforted. "I shall tell Anthony," she said; "he
must speak to Justin."
"I don't see what Blake's got to do with it," said the blunt captain;
"young Ford may tell him to mind his business----"
Sophie's head went up. "Dr. Blake is Bettina's guardian," she said, "and
if Justin resents his interference, I shall certainly be much
disappointed in Justin."
Miss Matthews bristled. "You ought to have seen the care he took of her
that day in the rain. I shall never forget the sight of those two young
creatures running up the hill--the captain said then he had never seen a
prettier pair."
In the midst of her worry Sophie felt an insane desire to laugh. Was
this tragedy only or, after all, a comedy? If Betty loved Justin? Her
imagination could scarcely compass the consequences of this possibility.
Sophie walked home with Miss Matthews, and, returning to Diana's, met
Sara half-way.
"Is Bettina flying with Justin?" Sara asked, abruptly.
"Captain Stubbs says that she is. I am very much displeased with Justin.
It is really unpardonable that Bettina should be subjected to such
danger."
"She didn't have to go if she didn't want to," said Sara, sharply, "but
she's crazy about him----"
"My dear----How do you know?"
"Anybody can see it. And I guess it's the real thing this time with
Justin."
The wistful expression on the sharp little face touched Sophie's kind
heart.
"It's hardly likely. They have known each other for such a short time."
"Time has nothing to do with love," said the sophisticated Sara. "A man
and a girl can meet and love in a week and live happy ever after. Oh,
yes, they can. And they can know each other all their lives and be
perfectly miserable. Dad and mother grew up together, and you've heard,
Mrs. Martens, what a life they lived."
The story of the unhappiness of Sara's parents was common property. Yet
it hurt Sophie to see the hard look in the girl's eyes.
"My dear child," she said, "everything depends on the amount of
affection which two people give each other--time doesn't count."
Sara was digging the point of her parasol into the sand. "I've never
seen anything like it with Justin. Why, he's _never_ asked any woman to
fly with him. And when I looked up a while ago, and saw that he
had--her--I knew he wouldn't have--asked her--if he hadn't--cared----"
"Perhaps we are making things more serious than they really are," Sophie
said. But as the two women walked on together, her mental disturbance
continued. What if Miss Matthews and Sara had spoken the truth? How
would it affect Bettina--how would it affect--Diana?
"I can't quite understand what all the men see in her," Sara was saying.
"Of course she's a beauty. But she's so little and white--and she
doesn't seem so terribly clever----"
"There's a charm she has inherited from those sleepy Venetian ladies,
who only waked now and then to flash a glance at some man--and hold him
captive. Those beauties were without conscience. But Bettina has a
Puritan streak in her which she gets from her mother--that's what makes
her such a fascinating combination, Sara. She's like a little nun; yet
one feels instinctively that back of that calm exterior there is force
and fire."
Sara nodded. "I know. Men don't like the obvious. That's why so many of
us American girls fail to inspire grand passions. We have no
surprises--no high lights or shadows--it's all glare----"
"I'm not sure, my dear, but that, in the long run, such women make men
happier than the other kind. In this practical world there's little room
for varying moods."
"If Justin marries Bettina," said Sara, "they'll live on rhapsodies."
She drew a quick short breath. "There won't be any commonplaces. They're
both made that way. It will be all romance and roses----"
"My dear--aren't we taking things a bit for granted?"
"You'll see. You haven't watched them as I have."
They had reached Diana's house, and Sophie asked Sara to come in.
"I can't. It's getting late and I must dress for dinner----"
"Some other time then, dear?"
"Yes--I shall love it." Then, with some hesitation, "I'm afraid I've
said more than I should----"
Sophie bent and kissed her. "Not a bit. I'm a perfect keeper of
confidences--and not a soul shall share what you've told me----"
Delia met Mrs. Martens in the hall.
"Dr. Blake's on the porch," she said, "and he's asking about
Bettina----"
"Hasn't she come?"
"No."
"What time is it, Delia----"
"Half-past six----"
"Of all the mad things to do," said Anthony, as Sophie went out to him.
"I shall certainly call Justin to strict account--for asking her----"
"She shouldn't have gone," Sophie said. "I can't imagine how he induced
her. She's such a little coward."
"They've been away three hours. I went over to the sheds and started a
motor boat to search for them. They are beginning to realize over there
that something may have happened."
"Did Justin ask Betty while you were with her?"
"No. He simply showed us around, and said he'd walk home with her. Oh,
the young fool, the young fool. He can risk his own life if he
chooses--but he had no right to take--that child----"
The telephone rang, and Sophie, answering, found Justin at the other
end.
"We're at Gloucester, safe and sound. I'm awfully sorry if you've
worried, Mrs. Martens. But I could not get to a 'phone before this.
We'll come back by train, and Betty says you're not to wait dinner.
We'll get something here. We're all right, really--only sorry if you are
upset."
"We are very much upset," Sophie told him, severely. "Anthony is here,
and he is extremely anxious."
"He needn't worry," grimly. "I can take care of her."
Mrs. Martens, explaining the situation to Anthony a few minutes later,
refrained, tactfully, from giving Justin's exact words.
Anthony dined with her, then went off to see Miss Matthews, who had
asked him to prescribe for her cold.
"Call me up when Bettina comes," he said, as he left.
Sophie promised, and watched him drive away in his little car. She had
never seen him so nervous, so irritable. Was this what the thwarting of
his life would mean--that he would let go of the serenity which had made
his presence a benediction to his little world?
Or was it really love for Bettina which so disturbed him? Stranger
things had happened. Diana was away--Bettina was beautiful--Justin was
in the field to measure lances.
With Peter Pan for company, Sophie waited on the porch for the recreant
pair.
When they arrived it was very dark, and she could not see their faces.
But what had made that difference in their voices--that subtle,
thrilling difference?