Part 43 (2/2)
Kate laughed spontaneously. ”Are you in earnest?” she asked.
”I am incomprehensibly, immeasurably in earnest,” he said, guiding her down a narrow path to a shrub-enclosed, railed-in platform, built on the steep side of a high hill, where they faced the moon-whitened waves, rolling softly in a dancing procession across the face of the great inland sea. Here he found a seat.
”I've nothing to tell,” he said. ”I lost Mother, so I went on without her. I learned to spell, and a great many other things, and I'm still making money. I never forget you for a day; I never have loved and never shall love any other woman. That's all about me, in a nutsh.e.l.l; now go on and tell me a volume, tell me all night, about you. Heavens, woman, I wish you could see yourself, in that dress with the moon on your hair. Kate, you are the superbest thing! I always shall be mad about you. Oh, if only you could have had a little patience with me.
I thought I COULDN'T learn, but of course I COULD. But, proceed! I mustn't let myself go.”
Kate leaned back and looked a long time at the s.h.i.+ning white waves and the deep blue sky, then she turned to John Jardine, and began to talk.
She told him simply a few of the most presentable details of her life: how she had lost her money, then had been given her mother's farm, about the children, and how she now lived. He listened with deep interest, often interrupting to ask a question, and when she ceased talking he said half under his breath: ”And you're now free! Oh, the wonder of it! You're now, free!”
Kate had that night to think about the remainder of her life. She always sincerely hoped that the moonlight did not bewitch her into leading the man beside her into saying things he seemed to take delight in saying.
She had no idea what time it was; in fact, she did not care even what Nancy Ellen thought or whether she would worry. The night was wonderful; John Jardine had now made a man of himself worthy of all consideration; being made love to by him was enchanting. She had been occupied with the stern business of daily bread for so long that to be again clothed as other women and frankly adored by such a man as John Jardine was soul satisfying. What did she care who worried or what time it was?
”But I'm keeping you here until you will be wet with these mists,” John Jardine cried at last. ”Forgive me, Kate, I never did have any sense where you were concerned! I'll take you back now, but you must promise me to meet me here in the morning, say at ten o'clock. I'll take you back now, if you'll agree to that.”
”There's no reason why I shouldn't,” said Kate.
”And you're free, free!” he repeated.
The veranda, halls, and ballroom were deserted when they returned to the hotel. As Kate entered her room, Nancy Ellen sat up in bed and stared at her sleepily, but she was laughing in high good humour. She drew her watch from under her pillow and looked at it.
”Goodness gracious, Miss!” she cried. ”Do you know it's almost three o'clock?”
”I don't care in the least,” said Kate, ”if it's four or five. I've had a perfectly heavenly time. Don't talk to me. I'll put out the light and be quiet as soon as I get my dress off. I think likely I've ruined it.”
”What's the difference?” demanded Nancy Ellen, largely. ”You can ruin half a dozen a day now, if you want to.”
”What do you mean?” asked Kate.
”'Mean?'” laughed Nancy Ellen. ”I mean that I saw John Jardine or his ghost come up to you on the veranda, looking as if he'd eat you alive, and carry you away about nine o'clock, and you've been gone six hours and come back having had a 'perfectly heavenly time.' What should I mean! Go up head, Kate! You have earned your right to a good time.
It isn't everybody who gets a second chance in this world. Tell me one thing, and I'll go to sleep in peace and leave you to moon the remainder of the night, if you like. Did he say he still loved you?”
”Still and yet,” laughed Kate. ”As I remember, his exact words were that he 'never had loved and never would love any other woman.' Now are you satisfied?”
Nancy Ellen sprang from the bed and ran to Kate, gathering her in her strong arms. She hugged and kissed her ecstatically. ”Good! Good!
Oh, you darling!” she cried. ”There'll be nothing in the world you can't have! I just know he had gone on making money; he was crazy about you. Oh, Kate, this is too good! How did I ever think of coming here, and why didn't I think of it seven years ago? Kate, you must promise me you'll marry him, before I let you go.”
”I'll promise to THINK about it,” said Kate, trying to free herself, for despite the circ.u.mstances and the hour, her mind flew back to a thousand times when only one kind word from Nancy Ellen would have saved her endless pain. It was endless, for it was burning in her heart that instant. At the prospect of wealth, position, and power, Nancy Ellen could smother her with caresses; but poverty, pain, and disgrace she had endured alone.
”I shan't let you go till you promise,” threatened Nancy Ellen. ”When are you to see him again?”
”Ten, this morning,” said Kate. ”You better let me get to bed, or I'll look a sight.”
”Then promise,” said Nancy Ellen.
Kate laid firm hands on the encircling arms. ”Now, look here,” she said, shortly, ”it's about time to stop this nonsense. There's nothing I can promise you. I must have time to think. I've got not only myself, but the children to think for. And I've only got till ten o'clock, so I better get at it.”
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