Esther woke from a troubled sleep that night, to find June standing
beside her. Pale moonlight shone into the room from half-drawn blinds,
filling it with an eerie light, as Esther started up trembling and
frightened.
"What is it? is anything the matter? Oh, I thought you were a ghost!"
She clutched at June with both hands. "Oh, is anything the matter?"
she asked again.
June laughed nervously; she found matches and lit a candle, then she
came back to Esther and thrust something into her hands.
"You'll never forgive me," she said. "But I've had it in my coat
pocket for two days...." She pushed her dark hair back from her
forehead tragically. "Lydia gave it to me for you the day I went out
in my best hat to meet George, and I was such a selfish, conceited pig
that he put everything else out of my head, and I forgot all about it
till just now, when I was lying awake thinking ... and then ... oh,
Esther, it's from Micky!"
Esther looked down at the crumpled envelope--
"From--Micky?..." she said. She was only half awake; she made a very
fair picture there with her long hair tumbling about her shoulders,
and her face a little flushed and startled.
June turned to the door.
"I'll go away--you don't want me.... I'll go----" but Esther caught
her hand.
"No--no.... Wait! please wait!"
"Very well--but I'm half frozen...." June looked plaintively at
Esther, but Esther had forgotten her, and she dragged the quilt from
the bed, and wrapped it round her small figure till she looked like a
mummy.
There was a long silence, then Esther raised her eyes to June's
anxious face.
Her own was quite colourless, and her grey eyes looked dazed.
"Will you--will you--read it?" she said faintly. "Please--I want you
to--I ... somehow I feel as if I'm dreaming."
But June at any rate was wide awake. It only took her two minutes to
read Micky's passionate appeal; the next she was laughing and crying
together, and hugging Esther boisterously.
"Oh, isn't he the most wonderful man? Don't you love him? Don't you
just adore him? Oh, if you're going to break his heart after all this,
I'll _never_ forgive you!... Why, my George isn't in it with Micky,
poor darling!"--she shook Esther in her excitement--"What are you made
of, that you can't see what a king he is? I don't believe there's any
blood in your veins at all," she declared indignantly. "You haven't
got a heart.... Oh, Esther darling! I didn't mean it--I--oh, I'm such
an idiot!..."
And the two girls clasped each other and cried together.
"And now if this ridiculous midnight scene is ended," June said
presently, sniffing her tears away, "let's talk sense. I'll go and see
Micky in the morning and explain everything. He knows what I am--he
won't be at all surprised--oh, I'm so glad--so more than glad.... Oh,
Esther, _why_ do you hide your face?"
"Because I'm so ashamed," Esther said in a stifled voice. "I'm not
worth loving--I've ... oh, you don't _know_ how I've treated him!"
June was silent for a minute, then she said gently--
"But Micky will forget all that--Micky never remembered a mean thing
against anybody in his life." She forced Esther to look at her. "Tell
me one thing, and then I'll go and leave you in peace," she coaxed.
"Do you--do you ... _you_ know?"
But in this instance, at least, a verbal answer was not necessary.
June kissed her rapturously.
"Oh, you darling," she said. She blew out the candle, and sped down to
her own room again like a ghost in the moonlight.
* * * * *
"Was there anything else you was wanting, sir?" Driver inquired
stolidly. He stood on the platform looking in at the first-class
compartment where Micky sat alone in durance vile, waiting for the
train to start.
He frowned, and pulled his soft hat further down over his eyes as he
answered--
"No, nothing.... I'll see you at Dover."
There were many people on the platform; in the next carriage a pretty
girl was seeing a man off--looking up at him as he stood on the
footboard with eyes that told their story eloquently.
Micky looked at her enviously. He would have given his right hand if
there had been some one there to see him off with just that expression
in her eyes--the right some one, of course. He turned away from the
window with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.
He had nothing in the world but his confounded money, and a lot of
good that was to him! It could not buy happiness.
The guard came down the platform--
"Take your seats--take your seats...."
A girl and a man pushed past him. The girl was staring eagerly in at
all the windows as she passed. When she saw Micky she gave a little
cry of relief.
"Here he is--Micky! Micky!"
Micky started to his feet.
"June!" he said. For a moment he thought something must have
happened--something was wrong--Esther!... her name was trembling on
his lips, but June rushed on impetuously before he had time to speak
it.
"We thought we'd come and see you off--George told me you were going,
and I guessed you'd be on this train.... I'm so glad we found
you--it's rotten seeing oneself off, isn't it?..."
Rochester came up laughing and red in the face; he took off his hat
and mopped his hot forehead.
"I can't keep pace with her, she's like a whirlwind," he said
whimsically. "She raced me off here before I could say a word."
"It's kind of you to come," Micky said.
He was pleased to see them; he felt decidedly less ill-tempered than
he had done a moment ago. He looked down at June's radiant face, and a
little doubt went through his heart.
He was in that dangerous state through which so many men have to pass
when the woman they love will have none of them. If Marie Deland had
happened to turn up then, he would have asked for forgiveness and have
married her offhand and regretted it the next day; and now, as he
looked at June, he wondered if he had been a fool not to properly
appreciate her. He felt a vague twinge of jealousy, realising that the
days were gone for ever when he had been the most wonderful man in all
the world to her.
He had never loved her save in a brotherly way, and he did not love
her now, but at heart men are all dogs in the manger, and it was some
such feeling that filled Micky's heart as he leaned out of the window
and looked at this girl.
"I hope you'll have a good time," she said cheerily. "Have you got
anything to read?"
"I shan't want anything--I'm not in a reading mood."
Micky was longing to ask about Esther, but pride prevented him.
The guard was blowing his whistle; doors were slamming; June gripped
Micky's hand.
"Be a good boy, and have a good time," she said. There was a furious
excitement in her eyes.
He made a grimace.
"I'm not expecting to have a good time," he answered.
The train was slowly moving; June ran a few steps to keep up with it.
Micky blurted out his question at last--
"Miss Shepstone ... Esther ... is she all right, June?"
June smiled.
"Oh, she's first rate," she said airily. "She's gone away for a
holiday.... Good-bye." She fell back laughing and waving her hand.
Micky kept his head out of the window till a cloud of smoke from the
engine blown backwards shut out all sight of her, then he drew in,
dragging the window up with a slam.
Gone away for a holiday, had she?--well--it was nothing to him. He
turned round to go back to his seat in the corner then stopping dead,
staring as if he had seen a ghost; for Esther was sitting there just
behind him, looking up at him with scared eyes.
For a moment Micky did not move; he was like a man turned to stone.
Then the blood rushed to his face in a crimson tide; he broke out into
stammering speech--
"You ... you ... what ... what ... I thought...." He swayed forward a
little and caught her hands. "You are real--I thought ... I thought I
was just imagining it all; I thought.... Oh, wait a moment...." He sat
down and leaned his head in his hands.
He felt sure that he must be mad or dreaming--the world had turned
upside down and pitched his thoughts into chaos; he was sure that when
next he looked Esther would no longer be there--he dreaded having to
raise his eyes.
Esther stretched a timid hand to him; her voice shook as she said--
"Oh, I thought ... I thought perhaps you'd be glad to see me--just ...
just a little--glad...."
"Glad!" Micky echoed the word with almost a shout. He got up and went
over to her; he looked down at her with an agony of doubt and fear in
his eyes.
"Why have you come?" he asked hoarsely. "If this is only a joke--if
it's any nonsense of June's ... by God, it's the cruellest joke you
could have played on me.... I--I...."
Esther covered her face with her hands.
"If that's all you've got to say to me," she began tremblingly.
"Esther...."
He drew her hands down; he forced her to look at him; for a long
moment his eyes searched her face disbelievingly, not daring to
hope....
Her cheeks flamed, but she met his eyes bravely.
Micky drew a long breath; he passed a hand across his eyes as if to
waken himself.
Then all at once he seemed to realise that this was in very truth the
woman he wanted sitting beside him; that she was here and for his
sake; that he was alone and unhappy no longer; and that after all the
weeks of hunger and restlessness he had got his heart's desire.
He looked down at her tremulous face with eyes of passionate
tenderness.
"Is this my wife?" he asked hoarsely, and Esther answered--
"If you still want me."
"Want you!" Micky caught her to him. "Haven't I always wanted
you?..."
Fortunately the train was not very full, and the corridor immediately
outside their carriage was deserted, or somebody might have had a very
interesting demonstration of how to kiss a woman who had refused for
months to be kissed.
Micky was like a boy in his happiness. He looked years younger than
the gloomy man who had dismissed Driver ten minutes since. He could
not take his eyes from Esther--he could not believe in his own
happiness even while he was engulfed in it. His arm was round her,
regardless of chance wanderers in the corridor--he held her hand to
his lips and kissed it passionately.
"What have you done with ... that other ring you used to wear?" he
asked jealously.
She turned her face away.
"I threw it out of the window when we came back from Paris," she told
him.
"I'll give you another. I'm going to give you everything you want
now."
"You've been too good to me already," she said. "I can never repay
you."
"You've given me yourself. There is nothing else in the world that I
want."
He laughed happily.
He bent his head towards her.
"Esther ... when did you ... when did you first ... think that you
liked me ... just a little?"
Her head dropped; he could not see her face.
"I don't know," she said in a whisper.
"In Paris," he urged, "or before? Tell me."
"I think it was in Paris--after ... after I saw ... Raymond! You were
so kind ... so different."
He laughed ruefully.
"I was nearer hating you then than ever in my life."
He saw the colour creep into her face. "You've told me ever so many
times that you hated me," he went on quickly, "but you never told me
that you ... loved me, Esther!"
He waited, but she did not look at him.
Then suddenly she took his hand in both of hers; she bent her head and
kissed it with a sort of passionate gratitude that brought a mist to
Micky's eyes. He seemed to see her all at once as he had first seen
her that New Year's Eve; alone, unhappy--with nobody to care what she
did, or what became of her.
"You're so much, much too good for me," she said brokenly. "You've
done everything for me, and I've done nothing for you--I haven't
even been ... nice! I can't tell you what I feel about it all--I only
know that--just lately--you've--you've made everything seem so
different--since you wrote me that letter--it makes me feel in my
heart that it's always really been you--always you, and never ...
never any one else."
"Darling," said Micky huskily. "And perhaps--some day--do you ... do
you ... think ... you could ever care for me more than ... than you
cared for ... that other fellow, confound him!" he added fiercely.
She looked up at him and smiled.
"I think," she said slowly, "that I only ... only really began to care
for--him--when he went away--and when those letters began to come; and
so you see--it was always you, because it was you who wrote them."
"It was a rotten thing to do, but I wanted to help you."
"You did help me ... and--Micky...."
"Darling...."
"My fur coat ... can I--will you give it back to me?"
"I'll give you everything in the world if you'll say you love me...."
"I do--I...."
"Say it then," he urged gently.
For a moment she did not answer; she was still a little afraid of him;
she still felt something of pride and constraint between them; though
she knew it was for her to sweep away the last barrier.
She looked up at him, the sensitive colour rushing to her face.
"I love you," she said softly. "Oh, Micky, some one will see----"
But Micky only laughed.
* * * * *
The train was running on to Dover Harbour before Micky realised it; he
looked at Esther with pretended dismay in his happy eyes.
"And pray, what am I to do with you, madame? Do you realise that I'm
going to Paris?"
"I know----" She laughed. "I'm going there too--of course, if you'd
like to travel in a different train to me...."
She was a very different Esther from the pale, frightened-looking girl
who had said good-bye to June at Victoria. Her eyes were dancing now,
and her face was radiant. Micky regarded her with proud satisfaction.
"You look years younger and prettier already," he said. "And that's
after only an hour or two of my wonderful society; so what you'll look
like when we've been married for years and years...."
He stopped, and a sudden emotion filled his face.
"What shall we do, love of mine?" he asked tenderly, "Shall we go on,
or shall we go back?"
She shook her head.
"I don't mind--either way, I'm afraid you'll have to pay for me," she
told him saucily. "June rushed me off so, I forgot my purse--Mr.
Rochester got me a ticket, but...."
"We'll go on," said Micky hurriedly. The train was almost at a
standstill. "You said you hated Paris--but you won't hate it with me.
We'll get married as soon as we get there--I'll take you everywhere."
Her eyes fell.
"I haven't any nice clothes--I only brought a small case; I never
thought you ... you...." She stopped, stammering.
"Paris is full of clothes," he told her. "We'll stay just long enough
to buy what you want, and then we'll go south. Esther, you've never
seen the south of France in springtime, have you? I'll take you there
for our honeymoon."
She drew back a little.
"But, Micky--there's June--what will she say--what will she think?"
"She'll think that you've behaved sensibly--at last!" he answered
audaciously. "June knew she wouldn't see either of us again for some
time when we left her at Victoria--June is a most discerning woman."
"She's a dear," said Esther warmly. "I owe all my happiness to her."
Micky pretended to look offended.
"I was under the delusion that you owed it to me," he said with
dignity.
"To you!" Her face changed wonderfully; she bent her head and kissed
the sleeve of his coat.
"I can't talk about what I owe you--it's just--everything!"
Micky drew himself up a dignified inch.
"I'm beginning to think I'm a very wonderful man, do you know?" he
said, addressing some imaginary person.
Driver appeared at the door. He hesitated for just the faintest
possible moment when he saw Esther, but his face was as stolid as
ever.
Micky rose to the occasion, though he turned rather red.
"Driver," he said, "let me introduce you to my wife----"
Driver touched a respectful forelock; if he felt surprise he did not
show it.
He took Esther's suit-case down from the rack.
"Was you--was you wanting to send a wire, sir?" he asked stolidly.
Micky looked at the girl beside him.
"Send June one from Paris," she said. "I don't know what she'll
say----"
But June might have been expecting the wire, judging from the calm way
in which she received it; she showed it to Rochester as if it were
nothing out of the way; she looked over his shoulder as he read it.
"Married in Paris this morning. Love from Mr. and Mrs. Micky."
She laughed and met Rochester's eyes; there seemed to be an inquiry in
his. June hesitated a moment, then she nodded.
And forty-eight hours later Micky and Esther read her reply just as
they were leaving for the flower-fields of France--
"Married in London this morning--June and George."
"Some people have no originality," Micky complained in pretended
disgust.
"But if they're half as happy as _we_ are," Esther said shyly.
Micky looked scornfully sceptical.
"Oh well! if you're going to expect the impossible...." he submitted.
THE END
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