Black is White 31

Black is White 31

“Isn’t it an excuse to stay away from--from Yvonne, after what happened

last night? Be honest, dear.”

 

She was silent for a long time, weighing her answer. Was it best to be

honest with him?

 

“I confess that it has something to do with it,” she admitted. Lydia

could not be anything but truthful.

 

“I thought so. It’s--it’s a rotten shame, Lyddy. That’s why I want to

talk to her. I want to reason with her. It’s all so perfectly silly,

this misunderstanding. You’ve just got to go on as you were before,

Lyddy--just as if it hadn’t happened. It------”

 

“I shall complete the work for your father, Freddy,” she said quietly.

“Two or three days more will see the end. After that neither my services

nor my presence will be required over there.”

 

“You don’t mean to say-----” he began, unbelievingly.

 

“It isn’t likely I’d go there for pleasure, is it?” she interrupted

dryly.

 

“But think of the old times, the------”

 

“I can think of them just as well here as anywhere else. No; I shan’t

annoy Mrs Brood, Freddy.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say more,

but she thought better of it.

 

“They’re going abroad soon,” he ventured. “At least, that’s father’s

plan. Yvonne isn’t so keen about it. She calls this being abroad, you

know. Besides,” he hurried on in his eagerness to excuse Yvonne, “she’s

tremendously fond of you.”

 

Lydia was wise. “I would give a great deal to be able to really believe

so, Freddy. I--I could be very fond of her.”

 

He warmed to the cause.

 

“No end of times she’s said you were the finest------” Her smile--an

odd one, such as he had never seen on her lips before--checked his

eager speech. He bridled. “Of course, if you don’t choose to believe me,

there’s nothing more to be said. She meant it, however.”

 

“I am sure she said it, Freddy,” she hastened to declare. “Will she be

pleased with our--our marriage?”

 

It required a great deal of courage on her part to utter these words,

but she was determined to bring the true situation home to him.

 

He did not even hesitate, and there was conviction in his voice as he

replied:

 

“It doesn’t matter whether she’s pleased or displeased. We’re pleasing

ourselves, are we not? There’s no one else to consider, dear.”

 

Her eyes were full upon his, and there was wonder in them.

 

“Thank you--thank you, Freddy,” she cried.

 

“I--I knew you’d------” The sentence remained unfinished.

 

“Has there ever been a doubt in your mind?” he asked uneasily, after

a moment. He knew there had been misgivings, and he was ready, in his

self-abasement, to resent them if given the slightest opening. Guilt made

him arrogant.

 

“No,” she answered simply.

 

The answer was not what he expected. He flushed painfully.

 

“I--I thought perhaps you’d--you’d get a notion in your head that------”

He, too, stopped for want of the right words to express himself without

committing the egregious error of letting her see that it had been in

his thoughts to accuse her of jealousy.

 

She waited for a moment. “That I might have got the notion in my head

you did not love me any longer? Is that what you started to say?”

 

“Yes,” he confessed, averting his eyes.

 

“I’ve been unhappy at times, Freddy, but that is all,” she said

steadily. “You see, I know how honest you really are. I know it far

better than you know it yourself.”

 

“I wonder just how honest I am,” he muttered.

 

“I wonder what would happen if------ But nothing can happen. Nothing

ever will happen. Thank you, old girl, for saying what you said just

now. It’s--it’s bully of you.”

 

He got up and began pacing the floor. She leaned back in her chair,

deliberately giving him time to straighten out his thoughts for himself.

 

Wiser than she knew herself to be, she held back the warm, loving words

of encouragement, of gratitude, of belief.

 

But she was not prepared for the impetuous appeal that followed. He

threw himself down beside her and grasped her hands in his. His face

seemed suddenly old and haggard, his eyes burned like coals of fire.

Then, for the first time, she had an inkling of the great struggle that

had been going on inside of him for weeks and weeks.

 

“Listen, Lyddy,” he began nervously; “will you marry me to-morrow? Are

you willing to take the chance that I’ll be able to support you, to earn

enough------”

 

“Why, Freddy!” she cried, half starting up from the couch. She was

dumbfounded.

 

“Will you? Will you? I mean it,” he went on, almost argumentatively.

 

He was very much in earnest, but alas! the fire, the passion of the

importunate lover was missing. She shrank back into the corner of the

couch, staring at him with puzzled eyes. Comprehension was slow in

arriving. As he hurried on with his plea she began to see clearly, her

sound brain grasped the significance of this sudden decision on his

part.

 

“There’s no use waiting, dear. I’ll never be more capable of earning

a living than I am right now. I can go into the office with Brooks any

day, and I I think I can make good. God knows, I can try hard enough.

Brooks says he’s got a place there for me in the bond department. It

won’t be much at first, but I can work into a pretty good--what’s the

matter? Don’t you think I can do it? Have you no faith in me? Are you

afraid to take a chance?”

 

She had smiled sadly--it seemed to him reprovingly. His cheek flushed.

 

“What has put all this into your head, Freddy dear?” she asked shrewdly.

 

“Why, good Lord, haven’t we had this very thing in mind for years?” he

cried. “Haven’t we talked about my------”

 

“What put it into your head--just now?” she insisted.

 

“I don’t know what you’re driving at,” he floundered.

 

“Don’t you think it would be safer--I mean wiser if you were to wait

until you are quite certain of of yourself, Freddy?”

 

“I am certain of myself,” he exploded. “What do you mean? What sort of

talk is this you are------”

 

“Hush! Don’t be angry, dear. Be honest now. Don’t you understand just

what I mean?” They looked squarely into each other’s eyes.

 

“I want you to marry me at once,” said he doggedly. “You know I love

you, Lyddy. Is there anything more to say than that?”

 

“Don’t you want to tell me, Freddy?”

 

His eyes wavered. “I can’t go on living as I have been for the past few

months. I’ve just got to end it, Lyddy. You don’t understand--you can’t,

and there isn’t any use in trying to explain the----”

 

“I think I do understand, dear,” she said quietly, laying her hand on

his. “I understand so completely that there isn’t any use in your trying

to explain. But don’t you think you are a bit cowardly?”

 

“Cowardly?” he gasped, and then the blood rushed to his face.

 

“Is it quite fair to me--or to yourself?” He was silent. She waited for

a moment and then went on resolutely. “I know just what it is that you

are afraid of, Freddy. I shall marry you, of course. I love you more

than anything else in all the world. But are you quite fair in asking me

to marry you while you are still afraid, dear?”

 

“Before God, Lyddy, I love no one else but you!” he cried earnestly. “I

know what it is you are thinking, and I--I don’t blame you. But I want

you _now_--you don’t know how much I need you now! I want to begin a new

life with you. I want to feel that you are with me--just you--strong and

brave and enduring. I am adrift. I need you.”

 

“I know you love me, Frederic. I am absolutely certain of it,” she said

slowly, weighing her words carefully. “But I cannot marry you

to-morrow--nor for a long time after to-morrow. In a year--yes. But not

now, dear; not just now. You you understand, don’t you? Say that you

understand.”

 

His chin sank upon his breast. “Of course I understand,” he said in a

very low voice.

 

“I shall never love you any more than I love you now, Freddy--never so

much, perhaps, as at this moment.”

 

“I know, Lyddy; I know,” he said dully.

 

“If you insist, I will marry you to-morrow; but you cannot--you will not

ask it of me, will you?”

 

“But you know I do love you,” he cried. “There isn’t any doubt in your

mind, Lyddy. There is no one else I tell you.”

 

“I think I am just beginning to understand men,” she remarked

enigmatically.

 

“And to wonder why they call women the weaker sex, eh?”

 

“Yes,” she said, so seriously that the wry smile died on his lips. “I

don’t believe there are many women who would ask a man to be sorry for

them. That’s really what all this amounts to, isn’t it, Freddy?”

 

“By Jove!” he exclaimed wonderingly.