Part 63 (1/2)
They talked quietly and happily of things nearest their hearts, as they had need to do, until they came to a certain fork of the road, when Larry paused, standing a moment with his arm across his son's shoulder.
”I'll go on a piece by myself, Richard. I'm thinking you'll be wanting to make a little visit.”
Richard's eyes danced. ”Come with me, father, come. There'll be others there for you to talk with--who'll be glad to have you there, and--”
”Go to, go to! I know the ways of a man's heart as well as the next.”
”I'll warrant you do, father!” and Richard bounded away, taking the path he had so often trod in his boyhood. Larry stood and looked after him a moment. He was pleased to hear how readily the word, father, fell from the young man's lips. Yes, Richard was facile and ready. He was his own son.
CHAPTER XL
THE SAME BOY
Mary Ballard stepped down from the open porch where Amalia and the rest of the family sat behind a screen of vines, interestedly talking, and walked along the path between the rose bushes that led to the gate. She knew Richard must be coming when she saw Betty, who sat where she could glance now and then down the road, drop her sewing and hurry away through the house and off toward the spring. As Larry knew the heart of a man, so Mary Ballard knew the heart of a girl. She said nothing, but quietly strolled along and waited with her hand on the gate.
”I wanted to be the first to open the gate to you, Richard,” she said, as he approached her with extended arms. Silently he drew her to him and kissed her. She held him off a moment and gazed into his eyes.
”Yes, I'm the same boy. I think that was what you said to me when I entered the army--that I should come back to you the same boy? I've always had it in mind. I'm the same boy.”
”I believe you, Richard. They are all out on the front porch, and Bertrand is with them--if you wish to see him--first--and if you wish to see Betty, take the path at the side, around the house to the spring below the garden.”
Betty stood with her back to the house under the great Bartlett pear tree. She was trembling. She would not look around--Oh, no! She would wait until he asked for her. He might not ask for her! If he did not, she would not go in--not yet. But she did look around, for she felt him near her--she was sure--sure--he was near--close--
”Oh, Richard, Richard! Oh, Richard, did you know that I have been calling you in my heart--so hard, calling you, calling you?”
She was in his arms and his lips were on hers. ”The same little Betty!
The same dear little Betty! Lovelier--sweeter--you wore a white dress with little green sprigs on it--is this the dress?”
”Yes, no. I couldn't wear the same old one all this time.” She spoke between laughing and crying.
”Why is this just like it?”
”Because.”
He held her away and gazed at her a moment. ”What a lovely reason!
What a lovely Betty!” He drew her to him again. ”I heard it all--there in the court room. I was there and heard. What a load you have borne for me--my little Betty--all this time--what a load!”
”It was horrible, Richard.” She hid her flaming face on his breast.
”There, before the whole town--to tell every one--everything.
I--I--don't even know what I said.”
”I do. Every word--dear little Betty! While I have been hiding like a great coward, you have been bravely bearing my terrible burden, bearing it for me.”
”Oh, Richard! For weeks and weeks my heart has been calling you, calling you--night and day, calling you to come home. I told them he was Peter Junior, but they would not believe me--no one would believe me but mother. Father tried to, but only mother really did.”
”I heard you, Betty. I had a dingy little studio up three flights of stairs in Paris, and I sat there painting one day--and I heard you. I had sent a picture to the Salon, and was waiting in suspense to know the result, and I heard your call--”