Part 72 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXVII
One day toward the end of August, Athalie, standing at the pier's end, saw the huge incoming liner slowly warping to her berth; waited amid the throngs in the vast sheds by the gangway, caught a glimpse of Clive, lost him to view, then saw him again, very near, making his way toward her. And then her hands were in his and she was looking into his beloved eyes once more.
There were a few quick words of greeting spoken, tender, low-voiced; the swift light of happiness made her blue eyes brilliant:
”You tall, sun-bronzed, lazy thing,” she said; ”I never told you what a distinguished looking man you are, did I? Well I'll spoil you by telling you now. No wonder everything feminine glances at you,” she added as he lifted his hat to fellow pa.s.sengers who were pa.s.sing.
And during the customs' examination she stood beside him, amused, interested, gently bantering him when he declared everything; for even in Athalie were apparently the ineradicable seeds of that original sin--which is in all femininity--the paramount necessity for smuggling.
Once or twice he spoke aside to the customs' officer; and Athalie instantly and gaily accused him of attempted bribery.
But when they were on their way to Spring Pond in a hired touring car with his steamer trunk and suit-cases strapped behind, he drew from his pockets the articles he had declared and paid for; and Athalie grew silent in delight as she looked down at the single and lovely strand of pearls.
All the way to Spring Pond she held them so, and her enchanted eyes reverted to them whenever she could bring herself to look anywhere except at him.
”I wondered,” she said, ”whether you would come to the country or whether you might think it better to remain in town.”
”I shall go back to town only when you go.”
”Dear, does that mean that you will stay with me at our own house?”
”If you want me.”
”Oh, Clive! I was wondering--only it seemed too heavenly to hope for.”
His face grew sombre for a moment. He said: ”There is no other future for us. And even our comrades.h.i.+p will be misunderstood. But--if you are willing--”
”Is there any question in your mind as to the limit of my willingness?”
He said: ”You know it will mark us for life. And if we remain guiltless, and our lives blameless, nevertheless this comrades.h.i.+p of ours will mark us for life.”
”Do you mean, brand us?”
”Yes, dear.”
”Does that cause you any real apprehension?” she laughed.
”I am thinking of you.”
”Think of me, then,” she said gaily, ”and know that I am happy and content. The world is turning into such a wonderful friend to me; fate is becoming so gentle and so kind. Happiness may brand me; nothing else can leave a mark. So be at ease concerning me. All shall go well with me, only when with you, my darling, all goes well.”
He smiled in sympathy with her gaiety of heart, but the slight shadow returned to his face again. Watching it she said:
”All things shall come to us, Clive.”
”All things,” he said, gravely,--”except fulfilment.”
”That, too,” she murmured.