Part 38 (1/2)
”I told you in my letter all I knew I couldn't say now. You know what you mean to me. I'm going to make all I can out of what there is in me whether you help me or not. But--if I could do it for you--”
Still she could not speak. She clung to the pillar, her breath quickening. He was silent until he could withstand no longer, then he spoke so urgently in her ear that he broke in upon that queer, choking reserve of hers which had kept her from yielding to him:
”Roberta--I _must_ know--I can't bear it.”
She turned, then, and put out her hand. He grasped it in both his own.
”What does that mean, dear? May I--may I have the rest of you?”
It was only a tiny nod she gave, this strange girl, Roberta, who had been so afraid of love, and was so afraid of it yet. And as if he understood and appreciated her fear, he was very gentle with her. His arms came about her as they might have come about a frightened child, and drew her away from the pillar with a tender insistence which all at once produced an extraordinary effect. When she found that she was not to be seized with that devastating grasp of possession which she had dreaded, she was suddenly moved to desire it. His humbleness touched and melted her--his humbleness, in him who had been at first so arrogant--and with the first exquisite rush of response she was taken out of herself. She gave herself to his embrace as one who welcomes it, and let him have his way--all his way--a way in which he quite forgot to be gentle at all.
When this had happened, Roberta remembered, entirely too late, that it was this which, whatever else she gave him, she had meant to refuse him--at least until to-morrow. Because to-day was undeniably the twenty-fourth of June--Midsummer's Day!
CHAPTER XXIV
THE PILLARS OF HOME
”Listen, grandfather--they're playing! We'll catch them at it. Here's an open window.”
Matthew Kendrick followed his grandson across the wide porch to a French window opening into the living-room of the Gray home, at the opposite end from that where stood the piano, and from which the strains of 'cello and harp were proceeding. The two advanced cautiously to take up their position just within that far window, gazing down the room at the pair at the other end.
Roberta, in hot-weather white, with a bunch of blue corn-flowers thrust into her girdle, sat with her 'cello at her knee, her dark head bent as she played. Ruth, a gay little figure in pink, was fingering her harp, and the poignantly rich harmonies of Saint-Saens' _Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix_ were filling the room. Upon the great piano stood an enormous bowl of summer bloom; the air was fragrant with the breath of it. The room was as cool and fresh with its summer draperies and shaded windows as if it were not fervid July weather outside.
Richard flung one exulting glance at his grandfather, for the sight was one to please the eyes of any man even if he had no such interest in the performers as these two had. The elder man smiled, for he was very happy in these days, happier than he had been for a quarter of a century.
The music ceased with the last slow harp-tones, the 'cello's earlier upflung bow waving in a gesture of triumph.
”Splendid, Rufus!” she commended. ”You never did it half so well.”
”She never did,” agreed a familiar voice from the other end of the room, and the sisters turned with a start. Richard advanced down the room, Mr.
Kendrick following more slowly.
”You look as cool as a pond-lily, love,” said Richard, ”in spite of this July weather.” His approving eyes regarded Roberta's cheek at close range. ”Is it as cool as it looks?” he inquired, and placed his own cheek against it for an instant, regardless of the others present.
Roberta laid her hand in Mr. Kendrick's, and the old man raised it to his lips, in a stately fas.h.i.+on he sometimes used.
”That was very beautiful music you were making,” he said. ”It seems a pity to bring it to an end. Richard and I want you for a little drive, to show you something which interests us very much. Will you go--and will Ruth go, too?”
”Oh, do you really want me?” cried Ruth eagerly.
”Of course we want you, little sister,” Richard told her.
”I'll get our hats,” offered Ruth, and was off.
So presently the four had taken their places in Mr. Kendrick's car, its windows open, its luxurious winter cus.h.i.+oning covered with dust-proof, cool-feeling materials. Richard sat opposite Roberta, and it was easy for her to see by the peculiar light in his eyes that there was something afoot which was giving him more than ordinary joy in her companions.h.i.+p. His lips could hardly keep themselves in order, the tones of his voice were vibrant, his glance would have met hers every other minute if she would have allowed it.
The car rolled along a certain aristocratic boulevard leading out of the city, past one stately residence after another. As the distance became greater from the centre of affairs, the places took on a more and more comfortable aspect, with less majesty of outline, and more home-likeness.