Part 32 (1/2)
”I suppose I shall have to go back,” said David gloomily. ”For a few days, at least. They will be expecting me. And the property is mine now--and all that. But, Mrs. Braddock,” he went on feverishly, ”I am coming back. In a week, yes, or less than that. I am coming back to be with you--to help you. I can't stay away now, Mrs. Braddock. It would make me too unhappy. I must be near Christine. She's more to me now than anything else in all this world.”
Mrs. Braddock smiled wanly. ”You are very young,” she said, ”and very impulsive. Do you think it would be kind to Christine if you were to follow the show for no other reason than to be near her? Would that be the act of a sincere friend? She would be compromised, I think you will admit. It was different before. You were one of us. Now you are an outsider. Even the easiest-going of the performers would resent your att.i.tude if you were to follow us now. It is an unwritten law among us that an outsider is always an outsider. We are like gypsies. Even you, who have been one of us, can have no future standing in our tribe--for that is what we are, David. You must take your place among those who look on from afar. As individuals we will always greet you and give you the best of our love; collectively we cannot take you among us. That is over. You are--”
”But I may still be a performer,” he cried insistently. He had taken Christine's hand in his, only to have it gently withdrawn by the girl.
”No, David,” said Mary Braddock firmly, ”it is out of the question. You are no longer a soldier of fortune. You are a Jenison of Jenison Hall.
We can't build a bridge for that.”
”But I won't stand it!” he exclaimed pa.s.sionately. ”I _will_ come back.”
”As a clown?” said she, smiling.
”I'll buy a part interest in the show,” he said stubbornly.
”You are not of age,” she reminded him. ”The courts will name a guardian for you, I fancy. No, my boy, we must face the thing squarely.
We shall be glad to see you if you happen to be where we may meet naturally.”
”But I love Christine,” he protested. ”You told me last night that you would put no obstacle in our way to--”
”I told you last night that I would put no obstacle in your way, David, if you came to me in five years and still could say that you love her and would make her your wife.”
”But we thought then that I might always be near her--with the show, perhaps,” he argued.
”Quite true. But all that is blotted out, don't you see.”
Christine was weeping silently.
”You think I'll forget her!” he cried angrily.
”Oh, David!” moaned Christine.
”You think I'll not care for her always--”
”Listen, David,” said the mother patiently. ”I can think of no greater joy that could come to me than to see Christine your wife--some day.
But we must face the true conditions. She may always be a circus rider.
I hope to take her away from this life--yes, soon, may it please G.o.d.
You think now that you will always care. But I know the world. I know youth too well. I--”
”But you were not much older than Christine when you were married,” he blurted out. He regretted the unhappy remark almost before it left his lips. She turned away her face, and no word came in response for a full minute. Then she ignored the tactless announcement.
”You must go your way, David. We will go ours. If G.o.d is good to us, we may come together again, and we may still be happy. You are eighteen, Christine is fifteen. You do not know your minds, my children. I have thought it all out. You must be content to wait. Christine must come to you from a different sphere, David. It is not as it was. She must not be of the circus.”
”Mrs. Braddock,” said he, rising to his full height, ”I only ask you to believe that I love her, and that I, at least, will not change. Will you change, Christine?”
”No,” said the girl, giving him her hand as she rose to look into his eyes with the whole of her young heart glowing in hers. ”I will not change, David.”
”Then, Mrs. Braddock, as a Jenison of Jenison Hall I formally ask you for the hand of your daughter. A gentleman may keep his word of honor for five years--for a hundred years. I pledge my love, my name, my fortune to her.”