Part 46 (1/2)
For a moment such a great wave of triumph swept over Helmsley's soul that he could not speak. But he mastered his emotion by an effort.
”I'm afraid,”--he said--”I'm afraid I should be no use to you in such a business,--you'd much better speak to her yourself--”
”Why, of course I mean to speak to her myself,”--interrupted Reay, warmly--”Don't be dense, David! You don't suppose I want _you_ to speak for me, do you? Not a bit of it! Only before I speak, I do wish you could find out whether she likes me a little--because--because--I'm afraid she doesn't look upon me at all in _that_ light----”
”In what light?” queried Helmsley, gently.
”As a lover,”--replied Angus--”She's given up thinking of lovers.”
Helmsley leaned back in his chair, and clasping his hands together so that the tips of his fingers met, looked over them in almost the same meditative businesslike way as he had looked at Lucy Sorrel when he had questioned her as to her ideas of her future.
”Well, naturally she has,”--he answered--”Lovers have given up thinking of _her_!”
”I hope they have!” said Angus, fervently--”I hope I have no rivals! For my love for her is a jealous love, David! I must be all in all to her, or nothing! I must be the very breath of her breath, the life of her life! I must!--or I am no use to her. And I want to be of use. I want to work for her, to look upon her as the central point of all my actions--the very core of ambition and endeavour,--so that everything I do may be well done enough to meet with her praise. If she does not like it, it will be worthless. For her soul is as pure as the sunlight and as full of great depths as the sea! Simplest and sweetest of women as she is, she has enough of G.o.d in her to make a man live up to the best that is in him!”
His voice thrilled with pa.s.sion as he spoke--and Helmsley felt a strange contraction at his heart--a pang of sharp memory, desire and regret all in one, which moved him to a sense of yearning for this love which he had never known--this divine and wonderful emotion whose power could so transform a man as to make him seem a very king among men. For so Angus Reay looked just now, with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng unutterable tenderness, and his whole aspect expressive of a great hope born of a great ideal. But he restrained the feeling that threatened to over-master him, and merely said very quietly, and with a smile--
”I see you are very much in love with her, Mr. Reay!”
”In love?” Angus laughed--”No, my dear old David! I'm not a bit 'in love.' I love her! That's love with a difference. But you know how it is with me. I haven't a penny in the world but just what I told you must last me for a year--and I don't know when I shall make any more. So that I wouldn't be such a cad as to speak to her about it yet. But--if I could only get a little hope,--if I could just find out whether she liked me a little, that would give me more energy in my work, don't you see? And that's where you could help me, David!”
Helmsley smiled ever so slightly.
”Tell me how,”--he said.
”Well, you might talk to her sometimes and ask her if she ever thinks of getting married--”
”I have done that,”--interrupted Helmsley--”and she has always said 'No.'”
”Never mind what she _has_ said--ask her again, David,”--persisted Angus--”And then lead her on little by little to talk about me--”
”Lead her on to talk about you--yes!” and Helmsley nodded his head sagaciously.
”David, my dear old man, you _will_ interrupt me,”--and Angus laughed like a boy--”Lead her on, I say,--and find out whether she likes me ever so little--and then----”
”And then?” queried Helmsley, his old eyes beginning to sparkle--”Must I sing your praises to her?”
”Sing my praises! No, by Jove!--there's nothing to praise in me. I don't want you to say a word, David. Let _her_ speak--hear what _she_ says--and then--and then tell _me_!”
”Then tell _you_--yes--yes, I see!” And Helmsley nodded again in a fas.h.i.+on that was somewhat trying to Reay's patience. ”But, suppose she finds fault with you, and says you are not at all the style of man she likes--what then?”
”Then,”--said Reay, gloomily--”my book will never be finished!”
”Dear, dear!” Helmsley raised his hands with a very well acted gesture of timid concern--”So bad as all that!”
”So bad as all that!” echoed Reay, with a quick sigh; ”Or rather so good as all that. I don't know how it has happened, David, but she has quite suddenly become the very life of my work. I don't think I could get on with a single page of it, if I didn't feel that I could go to her and ask her what she thinks of it.”
”But,”--said Helmsley, in a gentle, argumentative way--”all this is very strange! She is not an educated woman.”
Reay laughed lightly.