PENANCE
Miss Matthews' cold proved to be bronchitis, and Bettina insisted on
nursing her.
"Please let me," she said to Anthony the morning after her flight with
Justin. "I suppose I'm in disgrace, anyhow, and this shall be my
penance. Only it won't be very severe punishment, for I shall love to
take care of her."
"What good is penance if you aren't penitent? I'm perfectly sure that if
that young rascal should ask you to go again you'd go."
"It was glorious."
"But very dangerous."
She shrugged. "You do dangerous things every day. Doesn't he, Sophie?"
"Of course."
"That's different. I do such things to help others."
"And I do them to please myself."
"And to please Justin?" There was an impatient note in his voice. "I
have told him that he must not ask you again, Bettina."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't say a word." Anthony smiled at the memory. "He just looked at
me as if he would like to punch my head, and turned on his heel and left
me."
"Are you angry with him?" anxiously.
"He's angry with me."
"Oh, dear!" Betty sighed. "Sophie gave me a terrible lecture when I came
home last night; didn't you, Sophie? And now you and Justin have fallen
out, and I'm the cause of all the trouble. I'll go and look after Letty
Matthews, and you can learn to love me when I'm gone."
In spite of the lightness of her tone, there was a quiver in her voice
which brought both of them to her feet.
"My dear child----!"
"Betty dear----"
Bettina smiled at them with misty eyes. "Please let me go, and when I
come back everything will be straightened out--and we'll all
live--happy--ever after----"
Nothing that they could say would change her decision, and they were
vaguely troubled by it, feeling that she had erected between herself and
them some barrier of reserve which they could not break down.
Sophie voiced this in a worried way when Bettina had gone up to pack the
little bag which Anthony was to convey with her precious self to Miss
Matthews. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said so much, but when she came she
seemed so unconscious of the dreadfulness and danger that I'm afraid I
scolded a bit."
"She's such a child! Do you think she will ever grow up?"
"Of course. Diana feels that she has many womanly qualities----"
Anthony, standing by the window, fixed his eyes steadily on the blue
distance as he asked:
"What do you hear--from Diana?"
"I've a letter." Sophie rummaged among the papers on her desk. "And
there's a bit at the end that will please you--you know Diana and her
enthusiasms----"
"Yes, I know----"
His head was still turned away as she opened the thick folded sheets.
"Shall I read it to you?"
"Please."
"She says she likes the hotel, and the people, although she doesn't see
much of them. But this is the part you'll appreciate:
"'There's a wonderful bit of woodland, Sophie, back in the hills, and
every day I go there and dream. I thought for a while that I had lost my
dreams--but now they are coming to me again in flocks--like doves. And
yesterday came the best dream of all. I have been trying to think what I
could do with my future, and I've thought of this: I'll build a place up
here in the forest where Anthony's sick folk can come when they begin to
get well, and thus I can finish the work which he begins----'"
She paused, as Anthony faced her. "Why didn't she write that to me?" he
demanded, almost roughly. "Didn't she know it would mean more to me than
to you--than to anybody----?"
Then with the sudden consciousness that he was showing his heart he
stammered, "Forgive me--but you know what I think--of Diana?"
Sophie was infinitely tactful. "Of course I know what you think of
her--she's the most wonderful woman in the whole wide world; and that's
a great plan of hers--to have a haven for your convalescents."
He made no answer, but just stood very still, looking out, and when
Bettina came down with her little bag, they went away together.
Miss Matthews in a gray flannel wrapper was shivering over an inadequate
fire.
"Why aren't you in bed?" the doctor asked.
"Because there is no one to answer my bell, and no one to wait on
me--and I'm perfectly sure that if I ever let myself go to bed I shall
die."
"Nonsense," briskly. "I've brought Betty back with me, and she's going
to stay and see that you're made comfortable."
Miss Matthews' face brightened. "She's the only person in the world that
I'd have fussing over me."
"I shall stay here and boss you to my heart's content," Bettina told
her.
"Oh, dear," Miss Matthews sighed rapturously, "how good that sounds.
I--I want to be bossed. I'm so tired of telling other people what to
do--that last day at school I thought I should go to pieces."
"Well, you're not going to pieces," Anthony assured her; "you're going
to bed. And when I come back I shall expect to find you asleep."
Bettina, coaxing Miss Matthews to be comfortable, brushed her hair in
front of the revived fire.
"What pretty hair you have," she said, as she held it up so that the
light might shine upon it. "What makes you spoil it by doing it up in
that tight knot?"
"I don't know any other way," wailed Miss Matthews. "I've never had time
to be pretty."
"I'm going to braid it," said Bettina, "and by evening it will be
waved."
Miss Matthews submitted, luxuriously. "It seems so nice to have some one
fussing over me. I don't believe anybody ever brushed my hair before."
Bettina, having hunted out a box of her own belongings, was trying
different colored ribbons on the little lady's pale brown locks.
"Do you know, Letty, pink is your color? Yes, it is. Blue makes you look
ghastly. Now I'm going to tie this twice around your head so that it
will hide all the tight pigtails--I got that idea from Diana."
As she finished the somewhat elaborate process, there came steps
outside.
"It's just me," said the voice of the little captain.
Bettina peeped through the door, and announced; "Miss Matthews is sick."
"I know. I met Anthony Blake, and he told me; and what I want to know
is, can I do anything----?"
"Nothing--thanks."
"Yes, he can," said the hoarse voice of the invalid. "He can come in. If
he doesn't mind my head, I shan't mind him."
The captain, entering, found Miss Matthews in a big chair, her feet
covered by a steamer rug, her gray flannel apparel hidden by a white
wool shawl which had belonged to Betty's mother, and topping all was the
wonderful head-dress of rose-colored ribbon, beneath which Miss
Matthews' plain little peaked face looked out wistfully.
"Well, now," said the captain, as he shook hands, "that pink becomes
her, don't it?"
Miss Matthews blushed. "Betty fixed it."
"I always did like bright things on wimmen," said the captain,
earnestly, "and I like that pink."
"Of course you do," said Betty; "all men like pink, except those who
like blue, and now you must go away, for I've got to put my patient to
bed."
"Don't you cook anything for her," said the captain, as he backed out
of the door, his eyes still gloating over the rosy-beribboned lady on
the hearth-rug. "I'll bring you over a bowl of hot chowder to-night, and
if there's anything else you want, you just let me know."
"Delia will look out for the other things," said Betty; "she's going to
send little Jane to help me. But we shall be very glad to have the
chowder."
With Miss Matthews asleep at last, Bettina sat down to write a note to
Justin.
It was very brief, and began abruptly:
"I am going to tell Anthony. I lay awake all night and thought it out.
It wouldn't be fair for me to marry him--unless he knew. I'd get to be
just a shivery shadow, Justin, afraid that he would find that I didn't
love him--that I loved somebody else.
"But I can never tell him with his grave eyes watching me, so I'm going
to write, now--to-night. It almost seems as if poor Letty had been made
a sort of instrument of Providence so that I could be here at this time.
I couldn't stay at Diana's with everything over between me--and Anthony.
"Oh, Justin, will he ever want to be friends with us again? Will Diana
ever forgive us?
"I wish you were here. Yet you mustn't be here--not until everything
is settled. Somehow I don't dare think that we can ever be happy. It
doesn't seem right to think of it, does it?
"_But I love you._"
She gave her note to the little captain when he came with the chowder.
He brought something beside the chowder. In a square box, smelling of
sandalwood, was an exquisite kimono of palest pink crepe, embroidered
with wisteria blossoms.
"It has been lying in an old trunk for years," he exulted, as he shook
it out before her delighted eyes. "When I saw her," he nodded toward the
door of the inner room, "when I saw her with that pink ribbon in her
hair, it just came to me how nice it would be if she had a wrapper or
somethin' to go with it. And after I got home I went rummagin' around
until I found this."
"It's lovely," said Bettina; "she'll be simply crazy over it, captain."
"The funny part of it is that I bought it in foreign lands, thinking
that some day I might get married, and I'd give it to my wife--and now
I'm givin' it to her."
Bettina sparkled. "Oh," she said, "I believe you're in love with her,
captain."
The captain sat down in a chair by the fire. "Well," he said earnestly,
"it's like this. I ain't ever thought of her that way, exactly. It
always seemed to me that she knew so much, and that I was such a rough
old fellow. But lately--well, she's been lonely, and she ain't been
well. And all of a sudden it has kind o' seemed to me that, if I ain't
smart, I've got a tender heart, and I'd know how to make a soft nest for
her to live in, and it seems to me that maybe, after all, she might
throw me in along with all the rest of the reasons for getting married.
I guess most men are sort of thrown in. Of course the wimmen don't know
it, but what they get married for is to have a parlor of their own, and
a kitchen of their own, and somebody to fuss over, and it don't make
much difference what man they hang their tender affections on, just so
he provides the kitchen and parlor. Now here's Letty Matthews, all tired
out with teaching, and this is my time to step in. If she'll ever take
me she'll take me now, and as soon as she's well enough to hear me say
it, I'm going to ask her."
"If Letty marries you, it will be because she loves you--she's that
kind. She'd die sooner than take a man for what he could give her."
The captain's face fell. "Oh, Lord," he groaned, "she won't take me just
for--myself----"
"You try and see."
"If you can put in a good word for me," the captain urged anxiously,
"you do it."
"When a man wants to marry a woman," said his young adviser, "there's
just one way to get her. He must just keep at it, captain."
The captain stood up. "Well, what I want to say is this--I shan't ever
look at my garden without thinking of her sittin' some day among the
flowers, I shan't ever eat a meal without thinking how nice she'd look
pourin' out my coffee in a nice bright dress, and I shan't ever go for a
day's fishin' without seein' her in the other end of the boat. And every
time I shut my eyes, I'll think of her wearin' pretty things like my
mother used to wear. Why, I've got money, that I can't ever use, just
lying in the bank and waitin' for somebody to come and spend it. And
while I like my own way of doin' things, I can get a likely man to help
around the house."
"A man?"
"Yep. I couldn't ever boss a maid. And I ain't goin' to let her"--he
jerked his head toward the inner door--"I ain't goin' to let her drudge
and cook and scrub. So I'll get some lad that's been a ship's cook, and
don't like the sea, and we'll keep things nice for her, and she can fuss
around the garden and make calls on the neighbors and sit with me when I
smoke. For wimmen, after all," concluded the wise little man, "are liked
best by the men when they'll listen. A talkin' woman may catch a man,
but the kind that holds him is the kind that sits and listens."
He went away after that, and Bettina carried the pink robe to Miss
Matthews. "Oh, Letty, dear," she said, "just see how gorgeous you're
going to be."
She opened the box, and let out a whiff of foreign fragrance. But when
the beautiful pale-tinted thing was laid across the bed, and Bettina had
explained that it was the captain's gift, Miss Matthews looked solemnly
at her friend. "If you think I'm going to wear that," she croaked,
hoarsely, "you're mistaken."
"Of course you're going to wear it."
"Of course I'm not. I--I'd be afraid."
"Afraid--oh, Letty."
"Yes, I would. I've never worn such things. I'd be afraid I'd get a spot
on it, and it wouldn't come out. Now when a woman like me has a thing
like that she just lays it away to look at. Then she always knows that
she has one lovely garment. But if she wears it, she feels that the day
will come when it will be gone, and then--she won't own one beautiful
thing in the wide world--not one single beautiful thing."
Bettina bent over her soothingly. "There," she said, "you wear it once,
Letty, and then, if you wish, you can put it away."
* * * * *
Late at night, Anthony came on his last round of calls and urged that
Bettina should have a nurse to take her place. But Bettina refused.
"I took care of mother alone," she said. "I can surely do this."
Every moment that she was with him she was conscious of the difference
in her attitude toward him. She had a nervous fear that he might notice
the change in her, that he might read her heart with his keen eyes.
But he seemed preoccupied, and just before he went away he said:
"You haven't promised me one thing, Bettina."
"What, Anthony?"
"That you won't fly again with Justin. I think I shall have to ask that
you make it a definite promise."
"Suppose I won't--promise."
"I think you will," he said, in his decided way. "You and I, all through
our lives, will each have to defer to the wishes of the other. If I knew
that a thing worried you greatly I am sure I should refrain from doing
it--I should like to know that you felt that way about me--Bettina."
Something of the old tender quality had crept into his voice. Once more
they were alone in the shadowy room--but outside now was the darkness of
the night instead of the darkness of the storm. Perhaps some memory of
her first impulsive response to his wooing came to him as he took both
of her hands in his. "There's some barrier between us of late," he said.
"I'm a plain blunt man, and I don't know what I may have said or done.
Have I hurt you in any way, child?"
Here was Fate bringing opportunity to her. This was the moment for
revelation, confession.
But she could not tell him.
She stood before him with bent head.
"You haven't hurt me, but there is something I should like to say to
you. May I write it--Anthony?"
He put a finger under her chin and turned her face up to him.
"Are you afraid of me--dear?"
"Oh, no----"
"Then tell me now----"
"Please--no."
For a moment he studied her drooping face, then he patted her on the
cheek. "Write it if you must--but you're making me feel like an awful
bear, Bettina."
He sighed and turned away.
She put out her hand as if to stop him, but drew it back. Then she
followed him into the hall, and stood watching him, with the light from
the old lantern again making a halo of her fair hair. But this time she
did not go down to him in the darkness. The spell was upon her of a pair
of mocking eyes, and of a voice which had sung with her celestial
harmonies.