LOVE
Allison swept Gail into his arms, and rained hot kisses upon her,
crushing her closely to him. She offered no resistance, and the very
fact that she held so supinely in his arms, made Allison release her
sooner than he might otherwise have done. She had known that this
experience must come, that no look or gesture or word of hers could ward
it off.
“You must never do that again,” she told him, stepping back from him,
and regaining her breath with an effort. She had lingered in the front
parlours to receive him before her Uncle Jim should know that he was in
the house, and she had led him straight into the little tête-à-tête
reception room. She meant to free herself quickly.
“Why not?” he laughed, and advanced toward her, taking her attitude
lightly, ascribing her action to a girlish whim, confident in his power
over her. He meant to dispose of her coyness by taking her in his arms
again. She belonged to him.
“Mr. Allison.” The tone was cold enough, and deadly in earnest enough to
arrest him.
“What’s the matter, Gail?” he protested, ready to humour her, to listen
to what she had to say, to smooth matters out.
“You have no right,” she told him.
“Yes I have,” he jovially assured her. “I hope I don’t have to wait
until after marriage for a kiss. If that’s the case I’ll take you out
and marry you right now.”
There was an infection in his laugh, contagion in the assumption that
all was right between them, and that any difference was one which could
be straightened out with jolly patience, and Gail, though her
determination would not have changed, might have softened toward him,
had she not seen in his face a look which paled her lips. Ever since
last night he had anticipated her, had rejoiced in his possession of
her, had dreamed on the time when he should take her for his own; and
his eyes were cloudy with his thoughts of her.
“Let us have a clear understanding, Mr. Allison.” She was quite erect,
and looking him directly in the eyes. Her own were deep and troubled,
and the dark trace which had been about them in the morning had
deepened. “I told you last night that I should need time in which to
decide; and I have decided. I shall not marry you.”
He returned her gaze for a moment, and his brow clouded.
“You’ve changed since last night,” he charged her.
“Possibly,” she admitted. “It is more likely, however, that I have
merely crystallised. I prefer not to discuss it.” She saw on his face
the growing instinct to humiliate her.
“You must discuss it,” he insisted. “Last night when I took you in my
arms you made no objection. I was justified in doing it again to-night.
You’re not a fool. You knew from the first that I wanted you, and you
encouraged me. Now, I’m entitled to know what has made the change.”
The telltale red spots began to appear in her cheeks.
“You,” she told him. “Last night, your scheme of world empire seemed a
wonderful thing to me, but since then I’ve discovered that it cannot be
built without dishonesty and cruelty; and you’ve used both.”
His brow cleared. He laughed heartily.
“You’ve been reading the papers. There isn’t a man in the financial
field who wouldn’t do everything I’ve done; and be proud of it. I can
make you see this in the right light, Gail.”
“It’s a proof of your moral callousness that you think so,” she informed
him. “Can you make me see it in the right light that you even used me,
of whom you pretended to think sacredly enough to marry, to help you in
your most despicable trick of all?”
“Look here,” he protested. “That would be impossible! You’re
misinformed.”
“I wish I were,” she returned. “Unfortunately, it is a matter of direct
knowledge. You caused Vedder Court to be torn down because I thought it
should be wiped out of existence, and in the process you cheated Market
Square Church out of six million dollars!”
He could not have been more shocked if she had struck him.
“I knew you did not understand,” he kindly reproved her. “I didn’t want
those old buildings. They couldn’t have sold them for the wreckage
price. When you suggested that they should be torn down, I saw it. They
were a public menace, and the public was right with the movement. The
condemnation price will cover all they could get from the property from
any source. You see, you don’t understand business,” and his tone was
forgiving. “I’d have been foolish to pay six million dollars for
something I couldn’t use. You know, Gail, when the building
commissioners came to look over those buildings, they were shocked! Some
of them wouldn’t have stood up another year. It was only the political
influence of Clark and Chisholm and a few of the other big guns of the
congregation, which kept them from being condemned long ago. You
shouldn’t interfere in business. It always creates trouble between man
and wife,” and he advanced to put his arm around her, and soothe her.
The hand with which she warded him off was effective this time. She
stared at him in wonder. It seemed inconceivable that the moral sense of
any intelligent man should be so blunted.
“There’s another reason,” she told him, despairing of making him realise
that he had done anything out of the way. “I do not love you. I could
not.”
For just a moment he was checked; then his jaws set.
“That is something you must learn. You have young notions of love,
gleaned from poetry and fiction. You conceive it to be an ideal stage of
existence, a mysterious something almost too delicate for perception by
the human senses. I will teach you love, Gail! Look,” and he stretched
up his firm arm, as if in his grip he already held the reins of the
mighty empire he was hewing out for her. “Love is a thing of strength,
of power, of desire which shakes, and burns, and consumes with fever! It
is like the lust to kill! It whips, and it goads, and it drives! It
creates! It puts new images into the brain; it puts new strength into
sinews; it puts new life into the blood! It cries out! It demands! It
has caused me to turn back from middle-age to youth, to renew all my
ambitions, a thousandfold enhanced by my maturity! It has caused me to
grapple the world by the throat, and shake it, throttle it; so that I
might drag it, quivering, to your feet and say, this is yours; kick it!
That is love, Gail! It drives one on to do great deeds! It gives one the
impulse to recognise no bounds, no bars, no obstacles! It has put all my
being into the attainment of things big enough to show you the force of
my will, and what it could conquer! Do you suppose that, with such love
driving me on, any objection which you may make will stop me? No! I set
out to attain you as the summit of my desire, the one thing in this
world I want, and will have!”
Again that great fear of him possessed Gail. She feared many things. She
feared that, in spite of her determination, he would still have her, and
in that possibility alone lay all the other fears, fears so gruesome
that she did not dare see them clearly! She knew that she must retain
absolute control of herself.
“I shall not discuss the matter any further,” she quietly said, and
walking straight towards the door, passed by him, quite within the reach
of his arm, without either looking at him or away from him. Something
within his own strength respected hers, in spite of him. “I have said
all that I have to say.”
“So have I,” he replied, coming closer to her as she stood in the
doorway, and he gazed down at her with eyes in which there was insolent
determination, and cruelty. “I have said that I mean to have you, and I
will.”
Without a word, she went into the hall. He followed her, and took his
hat.
“Good evening,” he said formally.
“Good evening,” she replied, and he went out of the door.
When he had gone, she flew up to her rooms, her first coherent thought
being that she had accomplished it! She had seen Allison, and had given
him her definite answer, and had gotten him out of the house while the
others were back in the billiard room. She had held up splendidly, but
she was weak now, and quivering in every limb, and she sank on her
divan, supported on one outstretched arm; and in this uncomfortable
position, she took up the eternal question of Gail. The angry tears of
mortification sprang into her eyes!
A half hour later her Aunt Grace came up, and found her in the same
position.
“Mrs. Boyd and Doctor Boyd are downstairs, dear,” she announced.
Gail straightened up with difficulty. Her arm was numb.
“Please make my excuses, Aunty,” she begged.
“What’s the matter?” asked Aunt Grace, the creases jumping into her brow
as if they lay somewhere in the roots of her hair, ready to spring down
at an instant’s notice. “Aren’t you feeling well? Shall I get you
something?”
“No, thank you,” smiled Gail wanly. “I’m just a little fatigued.”
“Then don’t you come a step,” and Aunt Grace beamed down on her niece
with infinite tenderness. She had an intuition, these days, that the
girl was troubled; and her sympathies were ready for instant production.
“You’ll have to tell me what to say, though. I’m so clumsy at it.”
“Just tell them the truth,” smiled Gail, and punching two pillows
together, she stretched herself at full length on the divan.
Her Aunt Grace regarded her with a puzzled expression for a moment, and
then she laughed.
“I see; you’re lying down.” She looked at Gail thoughtfully for a
moment. “Dear, could you close your eyes?”
“Certainly,” agreed Gail, and the brown lashes curved down on her
cheeks, though there was a sharp little glint from under the edges of
her lids.
Her Aunt Grace stooped and kissed the smooth white brow, then she went
downstairs and entered the library.
“Gail is lying down,” she primly reported. “Her eyes are closed.”
The library was quite steadily devoted to Vedder Court to-night. A
highly important change had come into the fortunes of Market Square
Church. It was as if a stone had been thrown into a group of cardboard
houses. All the years of planning had gone the way of the wind, and the
card houses had all to be built over again. The Cathedral had receded by
a good five years, unless the force and fire of the Reverend Smith Boyd
should be sufficient to coax capital out of the pockets of his
millionaire congregation; and, in fact, that quite normal plan was
already under advisement.
The five of this impromptu counsel were deep in the matter of ways and
means, when a slender apparition, in clinging grey, came down the
stairs. It was Gail, who, for some reason unknown, even to her, had
decided that she was selfish; and the Reverend Smith Boyd’s heart ached
as he saw the pallor on her delicately tinted cheeks and the dark
tracing about her brown eyes. She slipped quietly in among them, her
brown hair loosely waved, so that unexpected threads of gold shone in it
when she passed under the chandelier, and she greeted the callers
pleasantly, and sat down in the corner, very silent. She was glad that
she had come. It was restful in this little circle of friends.
A noise filled the hall, and even the lights of the library seemed to
brighten, as Lucile and Ted, Arly and Gerald, and Dick Rodley, came
tumbling in, laughing and chattering, and carrying hilarity in front of
them like a wave. Gail shoved her tangle of thoughts still further back
in her head, and the sparkle returned into her eyes.
“We’re bringing you a personal invitation to Arly and Gerald’s yacht
party,” jabbered Lucile, kissing everybody in reach except the Reverend
Smith Boyd.
“You might let Arly extend the invitation herself,” objected Ted.
“I’ve given the pleasure to Gerald,” laughed Arly, with a vivacious
glance at that smiling gentleman. “He does it so much better. Now
listen.”
“It’s a little informal week-end party, on the _Whitecap_,” Gerald
informed them, with a new something in him which quite satisfactorily
took the place of cordiality. “Sort of a farewell affair. Arly and I are
about to take a selfish two months’ cruise, all by ourselves,” and he
glanced fondly at the handsome black-haired young woman under
discussion. “We should be pleased to have you join us,” and he included
Mrs. Boyd and the young rector with a nod.
“Of course we’ll come,” agreed Gail. “Doctor Boyd, can’t you arrange for
a week-end party once in your life?”
“Unfortunately custom has decreed that week-end parties shall cover
Sundays,” he regretted, but there was a calculating look in his eye
which sent Lucile over to him.
“Play hooky just once,” she begged. “This is only a family crowd, the
Babbitts and Marion Kenneth, and we who are here.”
The Reverend Smith Boyd looked at his mother, and that lady brightened
visibly.
“When is it to be?” he asked.
“Saturday,” Arly informed him, joining Lucile, who had sat on the arm of
Mrs. Boyd’s chair. Arly sat on the other one, and Gerald Fosland, with
an entirely new appreciation of beauty, thought he had never seen a
prettier picture than the sweet-faced old lady with the fresh and
charming young women on either side of her.
The Reverend Smith Boyd glanced, for just an instant, at Gail, who was
now sitting on the leather couch leaning confidingly against her Aunt
Grace. He had been at some pains to avoid this young lady recently, for
it is natural to spare one’s self distress; but there was a look of
loneliness about her which sent his heart out to her in quick sympathy.
“I think I’ll play hooky,” he announced, with a twinkle in the eyes
which he now cast upon his mother.
“That’s being a good sport,” approved Ted. “Stay away a Sunday or two,
and Market Square Church will appreciate you better.”
“Let’s have some music,” demanded Lucile.
“Gail and Doctor Boyd must sing for you,” announced Aunt Grace, in whom
there was a trace of wistfulness. “They do sing so beautifully
together!”
“I’m afraid I can’t to-night,” refused Gail hastily, and indeed she had
good reason why her voice should not have its firm and true quality just
now. “I will accompany Doctor Boyd, though, with pleasure,” and she
started toward the music room.
The Reverend Smith Boyd was cut off from the ordinary lies about not
being in good voice, and suffering from a slight cold, and such things.
He hesitated a moment, and then he followed.
The Bedouin Love Song, the Garden of Sleep, and others of the solo
repertoire which Gail had selected for him, came pulsing out of the
music room, first hesitantly, and then with more strength, as the
friendly nearness between himself and the accompanist became better
established.
Presently, the listeners in the library noticed an unusual pause between
the songs, a low voiced discussion, and then, the two perfectly blended
voices rose in a harmony so perfect that there was moisture in the eyes
of two of the ladies present.