Black is White 32

Black is White 32

“You are a strong, self-willed, chivalrous man, and yet you think

nothing of asking a woman to protect you against yourself; You are

afraid to stand alone. Wait! You need me because you are a strong

man and are afraid that your very strength will lead you into ignoble

warfare. You are afraid of your strength, not of your weakness. So you

ask me to help you. Without thinking, you ask me to marry you to-morrow.

The idea came to you like a flash of light in the darkness. Five

minutes--yes, one minute before you asked it of me, Freddy dear, you

were floundering in the darkness, uncertain which way to turn. You were

afraid of the things you could not see. You looked for some place in

which to hide. The flash of light revealed a haven of refuge. So you

asked me to to marry you to-morrow.”

 

All through this indictment she had held his hand clasped tightly in

both of hers. He was looking at her with a frank acknowledgment growing

in his eyes.

 

“Are you ashamed of me, Lyddy?” he asked. “No,” she said, meeting his

gaze steadily. “I am a little disappointed, that’s all. It is you who

are ashamed.”

 

“I am,” said he simply. “It wasn’t fair.”

 

“Love will endure. I am content to wait,” she said with a wistful smile.

 

“You will be my wife, no matter what happens? You won’t let this make

any difference?”

 

“You are not angry with me?”

 

“Angry? Why should I be angry with you, Lyddy? For shaking some sense

into me? For seeing through me with that wonderful, far-sighted brain of

yours? Why, I could go down on my knees to you. I could------”

 

“Let me think, Freddy,” she cried, suddenly confronted by her own

declaration of the night before. She had told James Brood that she would

marry this discredited son of his the instant he was ready to take her

unto himself. She had flung that in the older man’s face, and she had

meant every word of it.

 

“I--I take back what I said, dear. I will marry you to-morrow.” She

spoke rapidly; jerkily; her eyes were very dark and luminous.

 

“What has come over you?” He stared at her in astonishment. “What--oh, I

see! You are not sure of me. You------”

 

“Yes, yes, I am! It isn’t that. I did not know what I was saying when I

refused to------”

 

“Oh, there you go, just like a woman!” he cried triumphantly. “Spoiling

everything! You dear, lovable, inconsequent, regular girl! Hurray! Now

we’re back where we began, and I’m holding the whip. You bring me to my

senses and then promptly lose your own.” He clasped her in his arms and

held her close. “You dear, dear Lyddy!”

 

“I mean it, dear heart.” The whisper smothered in his embrace.

“To-morrow-to-day, if you will. We will go away. We will------”

 

“No,” he said, quite resolutely; “you have shown me the way. I’ve

just got to make good in your estimation before I can hold you to your

promise. You’re splendid, Lyddy; you’re wonderful, but--well, I was

unfair a while ago. I mean to be fair now. We’ll wait. It’s better so.

I will come again and ask you, but it won’t be as it was just now. It

would not be right for me to take you at your word. We’ll wait.”

 

Neither spoke for many minutes. It was she who broke the silence.

 

“You must promise one thing, Frederic. For my sake, avoid a quarrel with

your father. I could not bear that. You will promise, dear? You must.”

 

“I don’t intend to quarrel with him; but if I am to remain in his house

there has got to be------”

 

He paused, his jaw set stubbornly.

 

“Promise me you will wait. He is going away in two weeks. When he

returns--later on--next fall------”

 

“Oh, if it really distresses you, Lyddy, I’ll------”

 

“It does distress me. I want your promise.”

 

“I’ll do my part,” he said resignedly, “and next fall will see us

married, so------”

 

The telephone--bell in the hall was ringing. Frederic released Lydia’s

hand and sat up rather Stiffly, as one who suddenly suspects that he is

being spied upon. The significance of the movement did not escape Lydia.

She laughed mirthlessly.

 

“I will see who it is,” she said, and arose. Two red spots appeared in

his cheeks. Then it was that she realised he had been waiting all along

for the bell to ring; he had been expecting a summons.

 

“If it’s for me, please say--er--say I’ll------” he began, somewhat

disjointedly, but she interrupted him.

 

“Will you stay here for luncheon, Frederic? And this afternoon we will

go to--oh, is there a concert or a recital------”

 

“Yes, I’ll stay if you’ll let me,” he said wistfully. “We’ll find

something to do.”

 

She went to the telephone. He heard the polite greetings, the polite

assurances that she had not taken cold, two or three laughing rejoinders

to what must have been amusing comments on the storm and its effect on

timid creatures, and then:

 

“Yes, Mrs Brood, I will call him to the phone.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV

 

Frederic had the feeling that he slunk to the telephone. The girl

handed the receiver to him and he met her confident, untroubled gaze for

a second. Instead of returning to the sitting-room where she could have

heard everything that he said, she went into her own room down the hall

and closed the door. He was not conscious of any intention to temporise,

but it was significant that he did not speak until the door closed

behind her. Afterward he realised and was ashamed.

 

Almost the first words that Yvonne uttered were of a nature to puzzle

and irritate him, although they bore directly upon his own previously

formed resolution. Her voice, husky and low, seemed strangely plaintive

and lifeless to him.

 

“Have you and Lydia made any plans for the afternoon?” she inquired. He

made haste to declare their intention to attend a concert. “I am glad

you are going to do that,” she went on.

 

“Are you ill, Yvonne?” he queried suddenly. “I? Oh, no. I think I never

felt better in my life than I do at this moment. The storm must have

blown the cobwebs out of my brain. I believe I’m quite happy to-day,

Frederic.”

 

“Aren’t you always happy?” he cried chidingly. “What an odd thing to

say.”

 

She did not respond to this.

 

“You will stay for luncheon with Lydia?”

 

“Yes. She’s trying to pick up that thing of Feverelli’s--the one we

heard last night.” There was silence at the other end of the wire, “Are

you there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m teaching it to her.”

 

“I see.”

 

“I will be home for dinner, of course. You--you don’t need me for

anything, do you?”

 

“No,” she said. Then, with a low laugh: “You may be excused for the day,

my son.”

 

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, lowering his voice.

 

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong. Everything seems right to me. Your father and

I have been discussing the trip abroad.”

 

“Is--is it settled?”

 

“Yes. We are to sail on the twenty-fifth--in ten days.”

 

“Settled, eh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I thought you--you were opposed to going.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind. As a matter of fact, I’ve changed my heart.”

 

“You speak in riddles.”

 

“Your father has gone out to arrange for passage on the _Olympic_. He is

lunching at the Lawyers’ Club.”

 

“You will lunch alone, then?”

 

“Naturally.”

 

He suppressed an impulse.

 

“I’m sorry, Yvonne.”

 

She was silent for a long time.

 

“Frederic, I want you to do something for me.”

 

“I--I’ve promised Lydia to stay here------”

 

“Oh, it isn’t that. Will you try to convince Lydia that I meant no

offence last night when I------”

 

“She understands all that perfectly, Yvonne.”