MARCH HARES
George, in that masterful way which was not wholly acquired, but which
had been a latency till the episodic journey--George paid for the
dinner, called the head-waiter and thanked him for the attention given
it, and laid a generous tip upon the cover. From the dining-room the two
young people, outwardly calm but inwardly filled with the Great Tumult,
went to the manager's bureau and arranged for Fortune's room. This
settled, Fortune went down to the cavernous entrance to bid George good
night. They were both diffident and shy, now that the great problem was
solved. George was puzzled as to what to do in bidding her good night,
and Fortune wondered if he would kiss her right here, before all these
horrid cab-drivers.
"I shall call for you at nine," he said. "We've got to do some
shopping."
A tinkle of laughter.
"These ready-made suits are beginning to look like the deuce."
"Do you always think of everything?"
"Well, what I don't remember, the clerk will," slyly. "Till recently I
believe I never thought of anything. I must be off. It's too cold down
here for you." He offered his hand nervously.
She gave hers freely. He looked into her marvelous eyes for a moment.
Then he turned the palm upward and kissed it, lightly and loverly; and
she drew it across his face, over his eyes, till it left in departing a
caress upon his forehead. He stood up, breathing quickly, but not more
so than she. A little tableau. Then he jammed his battered fedora upon
his head and strode up the Corso. He dared not turn. Had he done so, he
must have gone back and taken her in his arms. She followed him with
brave eyes; she saw him suddenly veer across the street and pause at
the parapet. It was then that she became conscious of the keenness of
the night-wind. She went in. Somehow, all earth's puzzles had that night
been solved.
George lighted a cigar, doubtless the most costly weed to be found in
all Naples that night. The intermittent glowing of the end faintly
outlined his face. Far away across the shimmering bay rose Capri in a
kind of magic, amethystine transparency. A light or two twinkled where
Sorrento lay. His gaze roved the half-circle, and finally rested upon
the grim dark ash-heap, Vesuvius. Beauty, beauty everywhere; beauty in
the sky, beauty upon earth, in his heart and mind. He was twenty-eight,
and all these wonderful things had happened in a little more than so
many days!
"God's in His heaven,
All's right with the world!"
He flung the half-finished cigar into the air, careless as to where it
fell, or that in falling it might set Naples on fire. It struck a roof
somewhere below; a sputter of sparks, and all was dark again.
"I shall come." All through his dreams that night he heard it. "I shall
come."
Next morning he notified the captain to retain their cabins. After that
they proceeded to storm the shops. They were like March hares;
irresponsible children, both of them. What did propriety matter? What
meaning had circumspection? They two were all alone; the rest of the
world didn't count. It never had counted to either of them. Certainly
they should have gone to a parsonage; Mrs. Grundy would prudently have
suggested it. The trivialities of convention, however, had no place at
that moment in their little Eden. They were a law unto themselves.
Into twenty shops they went; _modiste_ after _modiste_ was interviewed;
and Fortune at length found two models. These were pretty, and, being
models, quite inexpensive. Once, George was forced to remain outside in
the carriage. It was in front of the _lingerie_ shop. He put away each
receipt, just like a husband upon his honeymoon. Later, receipts would
mean as much, but from a different angle of vision. He bought so many
violets that the carriage looked as though it were ready for the flower
carnival. He laughingly disregarded her protests. It was the Song of
Songs.
"My shopping is done," she said at last, dropping the bundles upon the
carriage floor. "Now, it is your turn."
"You have forgotten a warm steamer-cloak," he reminded her.
"So I have!"
This oversight was easily remedied; and then George sought the
tailor-shops for ready-made clothes. He had more difficulty than
Fortune; ready-made suits were not the easiest things to find in Naples.
By noon, however, he had acquired a Scotch woolen for day wear and a
fairly decent dinner suit, along with other necessities.
"Well, I say!" he murmured, struck by a revealing thought.
"Have you forgotten anything?"
"No. On the contrary, I've just remembered something. I've got all _I_
need or want in my steamer-trunk; and till this minute I never once
thought of it."
How they laughed! Indeed, so high were their spirits that they would
have laughed at any inconsequent thing. They lunched at the Gambrinus,
and George mysteriously bought up all the pennies from the hunchback
tobacco vendor. Later, as they bowled along the sea-front, George
created a small riot by flinging pennies to small boys and whining
beggars. At five they went aboard the ship, which was to leave at
sundown, some hours ahead of scheduled time. The captain himself
welcomed them as they climbed the swaying ladder. There were a hundred
first-class passengers for the final voyage. The two, however, still sat
at the right and left of the captain; but the table was filled, and they
maintained a guarded prattle. Every one at once assumed that they were a
bridal couple, and watched them with tolerant amusement. The captain had
considerately left their names off the passenger-list as published for
the benefit of the passengers and the saloon-sitting. So they moved in a
sort of mystery which rough weather prevented being solved.
One night, when the sea lay calm and the air was caressingly mild,
George and Fortune had gone forward and were leaning over the
starboard-rail where it meets and joins the forward beam-rail. They
were watching for the occasional flicker of phosphorescence. Their
shoulders touched, and George's hand lay protectingly over hers.
"I love you," he said; "I love you better than all the world."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure? Can you doubt it?"
"Sometimes."
"Why...."
But she interrupted him quickly. "In all this time you have never asked
me if I love you. Why haven't you?"
"I have been afraid."
"Ask me!"
"Do you love me?" his heart missing a beat.
She leaned toward him swiftly. "Here is my answer," pursing her lips.
"Fortune!"
"Be careful! I've a terrible temper."
But she was not quite prepared for such roughness. She could not stir,
so strongly did he hold her to his heart. Not only her lips, but her
eyes, her cheeks, her throat, and again her lips. He hurt her, but her
heart sang. No man could imitate love like that; and doubt spread its
dark pinions and went winging out to sea.
"That is the way I want to be loved. Always love me like that. Never
wait for me to ask. Come to me at all times, no matter how I am engaged,
and take me in your arms, roughly like this. Then I shall know. I have
been so lonely; my heart has been so filled with love and none to
receive it! I love you. I haven't asked why; I don't care. When it began
I do not know either. But it is in my heart, strong and for ever."
"Heart o' mine, I'm going to be the finest lover there ever was!"
* * * * *
The great ship came up the bay slowly. It was a clear, sparkling, winter
day, and the towering minarets of business stood limned against the
pale-blue sky with a delicacy not unlike Japanese shell-carving. A
thousand thousand ribbons of cheery steam wavered and slanted and
dartled; the river swarmed with bustling ferries and eager tugs; and
great floats of ice bumped and jammed about the invisible highways.
"This is where _I_ live," said George, running his arm under hers. "The
greatest country in the world, with the greatest number of mistaken
ideas," he added humorously.
"What is it about the native land that clutches at our hearts so? I am
an American, and yet I was born in the south of France. I went to school
for a time near Philadelphia. America, America! Can't I be an American,
even if I was born elsewhere?"
"You can never be president," he said gravely.
"I don't want to be president!" She snuggled closer to him. "All I want
to be is a good man's wife; to watch the kitchen to see that he gets
good things to eat; to guard his comforts; to laugh when he laughs; to
be gentle when he is sad; to nurse him when he is ill; to be all and
everything to him in adversity as well as in prosperity: a true wife."
She touched his sleeve with her cheek. "And I don't want him to think
that he must always be with me; if he belongs to a man-club, he must go
there once in a while."
"I am very happy," was all he could say.
"George, I am uneasy. I don't know why. It's my mother, my uncle, and
Horace. I am going to meet them somewhere. I know it. And I worry about
you."
"About me? That's foolish." He smiled down at her.
"Ah, why did my mother seek to renew the acquaintance with you? Why did
Horace have you kidnapped into the desert? There can be no such a thing
as the United Romance and Adventure Company. It is a cloak for something
more sinister."
"Pshaw! What's the use of worrying, little woman? Whatever schemes they
had must be out of joint by now. Sometimes I think I must be dreaming,
little girl."
"I am not little. I'm almost as tall as you are."
"You are vastly taller in many ways."
"Don't be too sure. I am human; I have my moods. I am sometimes
crotchety; sometimes unjust and quick of temper."
"All right; I want you, temper and all, just the same."
"But will they like me? Won't they think I'm an adventuress, or
something like that?"
"Bless your heart, not in a thousand years! I'm a pretty wise man in
some ways, and they know it."
And so it proved to be. Both Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer greeted them at the
pier in Hoboken. One glance at the face of the girl was sufficient. Mrs.
Mortimer held out her arms. It was a very fine thing to do.
"I was in doubt at first," she said frankly. "George is so guileless.
But to look at you, my child, would scatter the doubts of a Thomas. Will
you let me be your mother, if only for a little while?" with a wise and
tender smile.
Shyly Fortune accepted the embrace. Never had she been so happy. Never
had she felt arms like these about her.
"What did he cable you?" she asked in a whisper.
"That he loved you and wanted me to mother you against that time when he
might have the right to take you as his own. Has he that right?"
"Yes. And oh! he is the bravest and tenderest man I know; and below it
all he is only a boy."
Mrs. Mortimer patted her hand. A little while later all four went over
to the city and drove uptown to the Mortimer home. On the way Fortune
told her story, simply, without avoiding any essential detail. And all
her new mother did was to put an arm about her and draw her closer.
The Mortimer home was only three blocks away from George's. So, when
dinner was over, George declared that he would run over and take a look
at his own house. He wanted to wander about the rooms a bit, to fancy
how it would look when Fortune walked at his side. He promised to return
within an hour. He had forgotten many things, ordinarily important; such
as wiring his agent, his butler and cook, who were still drawing their
wages. He passed along the street above which was his own. He paused for
a moment to contemplate the great banking concern. And the president of
this bank was the elder brother of Ryanne! Lots of queer kinks in the
world; lots of crooked turnings. He passed on, turned the corner, and
strode toward his home, ecstasy thrilling his heart. Lightly he ran up
the steps. Three doors below he noticed two automobiles. He gave them
only a cursory glance. He took out his ring of keys, found the
night-latch and thrust it into the keyhole. He never had believed in
this putting up of iron-gates and iron-shutters. A night-latch and a
caretaker who came round once a day was enough for any sensible person.
He turned the key. Eh? It didn't seem to go round. He tried several
times, but without success. Puzzled, he struck a match and stooped
before the keyhole.
It was a new one.