"Nonsense! Go to bed and sleep. Mr. Ollnee and I will stand guard till
the ordeal is ended."
"I believe I'll risk it," decided Mrs. Joyce. "I can hardly keep my eyes
open."
"Nor your mouth shut," laughed Leo. "Hasten, or you'll fall asleep on
the stair."
Left alone, the young people came nigh to forgetting that the world
contained aught but dim stretches of moonlit greensward, dewy trees, and
the odor of lilac blooms. In the dusk Victor stood less in fear of the
girl, and she, moved by the witchery of the night and the melody of his
voice (into which something new and masterful had come), grew less
defiant. "How still it all is?" she breathed, softly. "It is like the
Elysian Fields after the city's noise and grime."
"It's more beautiful out there." He motioned toward the lawn. "Let's
walk down the drive."
And she complied without hesitation, a laugh in her voice. "But not too
far. Remember, we are guardian angels."
As she reached his side he took her arm and tucked it within his own.
"You might get lost," he said, in jocular explanation of his action.
"How considerate you are!" she scornfully responded, but her hand
remained in his keeping.
There were no problems now. Down through the soft dusk of the summer
night they strolled, rapturously listening to the sounds that were
hardly more than silences, feeling the touch of each other's garments,
experiencing the magic thrill which leaps from maid to man and man to
maid in times like these.
"How big you are!" exclaimed the girl. "I didn't realize how much you
overtopped me. I am considered tall."
"And so you are--and divinely fair."
"How banal! Couldn't you think of a newer one?"
"It was as much as ever I remembered, that. I'm not a giant in poetry.
I'm a dub at any fine job."
Of this quality was their talk. To those of us who are old and dim-eyed,
it seems of no account, perhaps, but to those who can remember similar
walks and talks it is of higher worth than the lectures in the Sorbonne.
Learning is a very chill abstraction on such a night to such a pair.
Would we not all go back again to this sweet land of love and
longing--if we could?
Victor did not deliberately plan to draw Leonora closer to his side, and
the proud girl did not intend to permit him to do so; but somehow it
happened that his arm stole round her waist as they walked the shadowy
places of the drive, and their laggard feet were wholly out of rhythm to
their leaping pulses.
The proof of Victor's naturally dependable character lay in the fact
that he presumed no further. He was content with the occasional touch of
her rounded hip to his, the caressing touch of her skirt as it swung
about his ankle. To have attempted a kiss would have broken the spell,
would have alarmed and repelled her. He honored her, loved her, but he
was still in awe of her proud glance and the imperious carriage of her
head. He preferred to think she suffered rather than invited the clasp
of his arm.
She, on her part, was astonished and a little scared by her own
complaisant weakness, and as they came out into the lighter part of the
walk she disengaged herself with a self-derisive remark, and asked, "Do
you always take such good care of the arms of your girl friends?"
"Always," he replied, instantly, though his heart was still in the
clutch of his new-born passion.
"I shall be on my guard next time.... I see Mr. Bartol in the doorway.
Don't you think we'd better go in? What time do you suppose it is?"
"The saddest time in the world for me if you are going to leave me."
"Don't be maudlin." She had recovered her self-command, and was disposed
to be extra severe. "Sentimental nothings is hardly your strong point."
"What is my strong point?"