"No, I'm going now."
There was nowhere in Graham's mind the remotest desire to stay. A new
and strange chivalry had taken the place of the passion that had swept
over him earlier in the evening when the blue light had fallen on her
slim body.
She looked into his face, nodded and put her lips to his cheek. "Good
night, zen," she said. "You 'ave taken me out of hell. You are very
good."
And as Graham walked home under the gleaming moon and the
star-bespattered sky, there was a little queer song in his rather lonely
heart.
Poor, simple, sophisticated lad! How easy it had been for that cunning
little creature whose one ambition was to be the mistress of an
apartment in business for herself, to take advantage of his unfed sense
of adventure. She, and fate, had certainly played him a very impish
trick.
V
The _Oceanic_ had been timed to dock at four-thirty, but the thick mist
at the mouth of the Hudson had caused some delay and her mail had been
heavy. The consequence was that she was edged in to her dock
considerably more than an hour late, to be welcomed by an outburst of
long-expectant handkerchiefs.
During the period of waiting--by no means unpleasant, because the sun
fell warmly upon the wonderful river--several brief, emotional
conversations took place between the people who had come to greet Peter.
The Guthries were there in a body,--even Ethel had pulled herself
together and had come to be among the first to greet her favorite
brother. Graham wouldn't have missed the occasion for anything on earth.
His love for Peter was deep and true. And it was good to see the
excitement of them all and of the little mother, who was in a state of
verging between tears and laughter all the time. Her big boy was coming
home again and once more she would have the ineffable joy of tucking him
up at night sometimes, and asking God to bless him before she drew the
clothes about his ears as she had done so often. Even the Doctor found
it necessary to take off his glasses several times and rub them clear of
the moisture that prevented him from seeing the approaching vessel which
seemed to have given herself up to the bullying of the small but
energetic tugs whose blunt noses butted into her.
Betty brought her father; and these two, with a delicacy of feeling
characteristic of them, placed themselves among the crowd away from the
Guthrie family. Intuitively, Betty knew that much as Mrs. Guthrie liked
her, she would rather resent her presence there at such a moment.
Belle's quick eyes very soon discovered them, however, and presently
they permitted themselves to be drawn into the family group.
It was a curious moment for Ranken Townsend and his feelings were not
unlike those of little Mrs. Guthrie. "My God!" he said to himself as he
stood looking out at the wide river, its marvellous and strenuous life
and the amazing sky-line of the buildings on the opposite bank; "has the
time arrived already for me to lose my little girl? Am I so old that I
have a young thing ripe enough for marriage and to bring into the world
young things of her own?"
The artist had only met the elder Guthries once before, although Belle
was a particular friend of his, having been frequently brought to his
studio by Betty. He knew Peter only from having seen him in the
treasured snapshots which his little daughter brought home with her from
Oxford. He had to confess to himself--although his natural jealousy made
him unwilling to do so--that Peter looked just the sort of man whom he
would like his daughter to marry when her time came. And so he singled
out Mrs. Guthrie almost at once and drew her aside. The breeze blew
through his Viking beard, and a fellow-feeling brought into his eyes an
expression of sympathy which immediately warmed Mrs. Guthrie's heart
towards him. "I didn't want to come this afternoon, Mrs. Guthrie," he
said. "Shall I explain why?"
"No," said the little mother. "I quite understand."
"Your boy and my girl are following the inevitable laws of nature, and
it's rather hard luck for us both, isn't it?"
Mrs. Guthrie put her handkerchief up to her mouth and nodded.
"Betty's a good girl and I've only to look at you to know that the man
to whom she's given her heart is a fine fellow. Well, it brings us up to
another milestone, doesn't it?--one that I wish was still some years
ahead. However, let's face it with pluck and with unselfishness, and be
friends. Shall we?"
"Please," said the little mother, giving him her hand.
Ranken Townsend bared his head.
And then Dr. Guthrie came up and peered at the man who was talking to
his wife. He vaguely remembered the artist's picturesque appearance and
fine open face, but he had forgotten his name.
Mrs. Guthrie hurried to the rescue. "You remember Mr. Townsend, of
course, Hunter," she said. "Betty's father, you know."
"I beg your pardon," said the Doctor. "Of course I remember you, and I'm
very delighted to see you again. You have friends coming on the
_Oceanic_ too, then?"
Townsend laughed. "No, I don't know anybody on her--not a soul. All the
same I've come to meet your son."
"Indeed! It's very kind of you, I'm sure." And then the Doctor suddenly
remembered that sooner or later he'd be obliged to share Peter with the
man who stood before him, and just for a moment he--like his wife and
like the other father--felt the inevitable stab of jealousy. He covered
it with a cordial smile. "What am I thinking about? Betty brought you,
naturally. We must meet more often now, Mr. Townsend."
"I should like nothing better. I don't know your boy yet except through
his photographs and my having met his mother, but I'm very proud to know
that my little girl is to bear a name that will always be honoured in
this country."
Dr. Guthrie blushed and bowed, and put his hand up to his tie nervously.
It was a curious little meeting, this. All three parents were
self-conscious and uncomfortable. They would have been antagonistic but
for the very true human note that each recognized. They were all
reminded of the unpleasant fact that they were in sight of a new and
wide cross-road in their lives, along which they were presently to see
two of their young people walking away together hand in hand. Parenthood
has in it everything that is beautiful, but much that is disappointing
and inevitable--much that brings pain and a sudden sense of loneliness.
There was a very different ring in the conversation of Betty and Belle,
who stood a few yards away surrounded by people of all the strange
conglomerate nationalities which go to make up the population of the
United States. Good-tempered, affectionate and excitable Hebrews were
already shouting welcomes to their friends on the _Oceanic_, as the
vessel drew slowly nearer. Temperamental Irish were alternately waving
handkerchiefs and daubing their eyes with them, and others--of French,
German, Dutch, Swedish, Norwegian, Russian and English extraction--were
trying to discern the faces of those who were near and dear to them
among the passengers who were leaning over the rails of the vessel. It
was an animated and moving scene, very much more cheery than the ones
which take place on the same spot when the great trans-Atlantic Liners
slip out into the river.
"Look!" cried Belle. "There's Nicholas. Isn't he absolutely and
wonderfully English?"
"And there's Peter!" said Betty, with a catch in her voice. "And isn't
he splendidly American?"
"Oh, I'm so excited I can hardly stand still. I've dreamed of this every
night ever since we came home."
"So have I. But this is better than dreams. Look! Peter has seen us.
He's waving his hat. Even his hair seems to be sunburnt."
Belle laughed, though her eyes were full of tears. "I can almost smell
the violet stuff that Nicholas puts on his."
Then there was the usual rush as the liner slid into her berth, and as
Mrs. Guthrie was swept away with it, holding tight to Graham's arm, she
said to herself: "He waved to Betty first. O God, make me brave!"
All the same, it was the little mother to whom Peter went first as he
came ashore, and he held her very tight, so that she could hardly
breathe, and said: "Darling mum! How good to see you!" and there was
something in that.
The Doctor took his boy's big hand with less self-consciousness than
usual. He wished that he might have had the pluck to kiss him on both
cheeks and thus follow the excellent example of a little fat Frenchman
who had nearly thrown him off his balance in his eagerness to welcome a
thin, dark boy.
"Hello, Belle! Hello, Graham! Hello, Ethel!" And then Peter stood in
front of Betty, to whom he said nothing, but the kiss that he gave her
meant more than the whole of a dictionary. "Oh, my Peter!" she
whispered.
Nicholas Kenyon followed with his most winning smile, and was cordially
welcomed. He had charming things to say to everyone, especially to
Belle. After close scrutiny, Ethel's inward criticism of him was that he
had "escaped being Oxford."
And then Ranken Townsend held out his hand. "But for me, Peter Guthrie,"
he said, "you wouldn't have had a sweetheart. Shake!"
A wave of color spread all over Peter's brown face. He grasped the
outstretched hand. "I'm awfully glad to see you," he said.
"And I'm awfully glad to see you." The artist measured the boy up. Yes,
he was well satisfied. Here stood a man in whose clean eyes he
recognized the spirit of a boy. Betty had chosen well. "Do you smoke a
pipe?"
"Well, rather."
"I thought so. Bring it along to my studio as soon as your mother can
spare you and we'll talk about life and love and the great hereafter. Is
that a bet?"
"That's a bet," said Peter. And he added, putting his mouth close to
Betty's ear: "Darling, he's a corker! He likes me. Gee, that's fine!"
Then he turned to his mother, ran his arm round her shoulder, walked her
over to the place in the great echoing, bustling shed over which a huge
"G" hung, and sat down with her on somebody else's trunk which had just
been flung there, to wait with unapproving patience for that blessed
time when one of the officialdom's chewing gods, having forced a prying
hand among his shirts and underclothing, should mark his baggage with a
magic cross and so permit him to reconnect himself with life.
Nicholas Kenyon, as immaculate as though he had just emerged from a
bandbox, slipped his hand surreptitiously into Belle's. "Are you glad to
see me?" he asked, under his breath.
Belle said nothing in reply, but the look that she gave him instead set
that expert's blood racing through his veins and gave him something to
look forward to that alone made it worth crossing a waste of unnecessary
water.