Part 7 (1/2)
CAPTAIN MORTON ACTS AS COURT HERALD AND MORTY SANDS AND GRANT ADAMS HEAR SAD NEWS
Spring in Mrs. Nesbit's garden, even in those days when a garden in Harvey meant chiefly lettuce and radishes and peas, was no casual event.
Spring opened formally for the Nesbits with crocuses and hyacinths; smiled genially in golden forsythia, bridal wreath and tulips, preened itself in flags and lilacs before glowing in roses and peonies. Now the spring is always wise; for it knows what the winter only hopes or fears.
Events burst forth in spring that have been hidden since their seedtime.
And it was with the coming of the first crocuses that Dr. Nesbit found in his daughter's eyes a joyous look, new and exultant--a look which never had been inspired by the love he lavished upon her. It was not meant for him. Yet it was as truly a spring blossom as any that blushed in the garden. When it came and when the father realized that the mother also saw it, they feared to speak of it--even to themselves and by indirection.
For they knew their winter conspiracies had failed. In vain was the trip to Baltimore; in vain was the week with grand opera in New York, and they both knew that the proposed trip to Europe never would occur. When the parents saw that look of triumphant joy in their daughter's face, when they saw how it lighted up her countenance like a flame when Tom Van Dorn was near or was on his way to her, they knew that from the secret recesses of her heart, from the depths of her being, love was springing. They knew that they could not uproot it, and they had no heart to try. For they accepted love as a fact of life, and felt that when once it has seeded and grown upon a heart, it is a part of that heart and only G.o.d's own wisdom and mercy may change the destiny that love has written upon the life in which love rests. So in the wisdom of the spring, the parents were mute and sad.
There was no hint of anger in their sorrow. They realized that if she was wrong, and they were right, she needed them vastly more than if they were wrong and she was right, and so they tried to rejoice with her--not of course expressly and baldly, but in a thousand ways that lay about them, they made her as happy as they could. Their sweet acquiescence in what she knew was cutting the elders to the quick, gave the girl many an hour of poignant distress. Yet the purpose of her heart was not moved.
The Satterthwaite in her was dominant.
”Doctor,” spoke the wife one morning as they sat alone over their breakfast, ”I think--” She stopped, and he knew she was listening to the daughter, who was singing in an undertone in the garden.
”Yes,” he answered, ”so do I. I think they have settled it.”
The man dropped his glance to the table before him, where his hands rested helplessly and cried, ”Bedelia--I don't--I don't like it!”
The color of her woe darkened Mrs. Nesbit's face as her features trembled for a second, before she controlled herself. ”No, Jim--no--no!
I don't--I'm afraid--afraid, of I don't know what!”
”Of course, he's of excellent family--the very best!” the wife ventured.
”And he's making money--and has lots of money from his people!” returned the father.
”And he's a man among men!” added the mother.
”Oh, yes--very much that,--and he's trying to be decent! Honestly, Bedelia, I believe the fellow's got a new grip on himself!” The Doctor's voice had regained its timbre; it was just a little hard, and it broke an instant later as he cried: ”O Lord, Lord, mother--we can't fool ourselves; let's not try!” They looked into the garden, where the girl stood by the blooming lilacs with her arms filled with blossoms.
At length the mother spoke, ”What shall we do?”
”What can we do?” the Doctor echoed. ”What can any human creatures do in these cases! To interfere does no good! The thing is here. Why has it come? I don't know.” He repeated the last sentence piteously, and went on gently:
”'They say it was a stolen tide--the Lord who sent it, He knows all!'
But why--why--why--did it wash in here? What does it mean? What have we done--and what--what has she done?”
The little Doctor looked up into the strong face of his wife rather helplessly, then the time spirit that is after all our sanity--touched them, and they smiled. ”Perhaps, Jim,” the smile broke into something almost like a laugh, ”father said something like that to mother the day I stood among the magnolias trying to pluck courage with the flowers to tell him that I was going with you!”
They succeeded in raising a miserable little laugh, and he squeezed her hand.
The girl moved toward the house. The father turned and put on his hat as he went to meet her. She was a hesitant, self-conscious girl in pink, who stopped her father as he toddled down the front steps with his medicine case, and she put her hand upon him, saying:
”Father,” she paused, looking eagerly at him, then continued, ”there's the loveliest yellow flag over here.” The father smiled, put his arm about the girl and piped: ”So the pink rosebud will take us to the yellow flag!” They walked across the garden to the flower and she exclaimed: ”Oh, father--isn't it lovely!”
The father looked tenderly into her gray eyes, patted her on the shoulder and with his arm still about her, he led her to a seat under the lilacs before the yellow flower. He looked from the flower to her face and then kissed her as he whispered: ”Oh my dear, my dear.” She threw her arms about him and buried her face, all flushed, upon his shoulder. He felt her quiver under the pressure of his arm and before she could look at him, she spoke:
”Oh, father! Father! You--you won't--you won't blame--” Then she lifted up her face to his and cried pa.s.sionately: ”But all the world could not stop it now--not now! But, oh, father, I want you with me,” and she shook his arm. ”You must understand. You must see Tom as I see him, father.” She looked the question of her soul in an anxious, searching glance. Her father reached for one of her hands and patted it. He gazed downward at the yellow iris, but did not see it.
”Yes, dear, I know--I understand.”
”I was sure that you would know without my spelling it all out to you.