XXXIII
We are credibly informed that Time travels in divers paces with diverspersons--the statement being made by a lady who may be considered tospeak with some authority, having triumphantly withstood the ravagesof Chronos for a matter of three centuries. But I doubt if even theinsolent sweet wit of Rosalind could have devised a fitting simile forTime's gait at Selwoode those five days that Billy lay abed. Margaretcould not but marvel at the flourishing proportion attained by thehours in those sunlit spring days; and at dinner, say, her thoughtsharking back to luncheon, recalled it by a vigorous effort as anaffair of the dim yester-years--a mere blurred memory, faint and vagueas a Druidical tenet or a Merovingian squabble.
But the time passed for all that; and eventually--it was just beforedusk--she came, with Martin Jeal's permission, into the room whereBilly was. And beside the big open fireplace, where a wood firechattered companionably, sat a very pallid Billy, a rather thin Billy,with a great many bandages about his head.
You may depend upon it, Margaret was not looking her worst thatafternoon. By actual count, Celestine had done her hair six timesbefore reaching an acceptable result.
And, "Yes, Celestine, you may get out that pale yellow dress. No,beautiful, the one with the black satin stripes on the bodice--becauseI don't want my hair cast completely in the shade, do I? Now, let mesee--black feather, gloves, large pompadour, _and_ a sweet smile. No,I don't want a fan--that's a Lydia Languish trade-mark. And _two_ silkskirts rustling like the deadest leaves imaginable. Yes, I think thatwill do. And if you can't hook up my dress without pecking and peckingat me like that, I'll probably go stark, _staring_ crazy, Celestine,and then you'll be sorry. No, it isn't a bit tight--are you perfectlycertain there's no powder behind my ears, Celestine? Now, _please_ tryto fasten the collar without pulling all my hair down. Ye-es, I thinkthat will do, Celestine. Well, it's very nice of you to say so, but Idon't believe I much fancy myself in yellow, after all."
Equipped and armed for conquest, then, she came into the room with avery tolerable affectation of unconcern. Altogether, it was a quiteeffective entrance.
"I've been for a little drive, Billy," she mendaciously informed him."That's how you happen to have the opportunity of seeing me in all mynice new store-clothes. Aren't you pleased, Billy? No, don't you dareget up!" Margaret stood across the room, peeling off her gloves andregarding him on the whole with disapproval. "They've been starvingyou," she pensively reflected. "As soon as that Jeal person goes away,I shall have six little beefsteaks cooked and see to it personallythat you eat every one of them. And I'll cook a cherry pie--quick asa cat can wink her eye--won't I, Billy? That Jeal person is a decidednuisance," said Miss Hugonin, as she stabbed her hat rather viciouslywith two hat-pins and then laid it aside on a table.
Billy Woods was looking up at her forlornly. It hurt her to see thelove and sorrow in his face. But oh, how avidly his soul drank in themodulations of that longed-for voice--a voice that was honey and goldand velvet and all that is most sweet and rich and soft in the world.
"Peggy," said he, plunging at the heart of things, "where's thatwill?"
Miss Hugonin kicked forward a little foot-stool to the other side ofthe fire, and sat down and complacently smoothed out her skirts.
"I knew it!" said she. "I never saw such a one-idea'd person in mylife. I knew that would be the very first thing you would ask for,Billy Woods, because you're such an obstinate, stiffnecked _donkey_.Very well!"--and Margaret tossed her head--"here's Uncle Fred's will,then, and you can do _exactly_ as you like with it, and _now_ I hopeyou're satisfied!" And Margaret handed him the long envelope which layin her lap.
Mr. Woods promptly opened it.
"That," Miss Hugonin commented, "is what I term very unladylikebehaviour on your part."
"You evidently don't trust me, Billy Woods. Very well! I don't care!Read it carefully--very carefully, and make quite sure I haven't beendabbling in forgery of late--besides, it's so good for your eyes, youknow, after being hit over the head," Margaret suggested, cheerfully.
Billy chuckled. "That's true," said he, "but I know Uncle Fred's fistwell enough without having to read it all. Candidly, Peggy, I _had_ tolook at it, because I--well, I didn't quite trust you, Peggy. Andnow we're going to burn this interesting paper, you and I." "Wait!"Margaret cried. "Ah, wait, just a moment, Billy!"
He glanced up at her in surprise, the paper still poised in his hand.
She sat with head drooped forward, her masculine little chin thrustout eagerly, her candid eyes transparently appraising him.
"Why are you going to burn it, Billy?"
"Why?" Mr. Woods, repeated, thoughtfully. "Well, for a variety ofreasons. First is, that Uncle Fred really did leave his money to you,and burning this is the only way of making sure you get it. Why, Ithought you wanted me to burn it! Last time I saw you--"
"I was in a temper," said Margaret, haughtily. "You ought to have seenthat."
"Yes, I--er--noticed it," Mr. Woods admitted, with some dryness; "butit wasn't only temper. You've grown accustomed to the money. You'dmiss it now--miss the pleasure it gives you, miss the power it givesyou. You'd never be content to go back to the old life now. Why,Peggy, you yourself told me you thought money the greatest thing inthe world! It has changed you, Peggy, this--ah, well!" said Billy, "wewon't talk about that. I'm going to burn it because that's the onlyhonourable thing to do. Ready, Peggy?"
"It may be honourable, but it's _extremely_ silly," Margarettemporised, "and for my part, I'm very, very glad God had run out of asense of honour when He created the woman."
"Phrases don't alter matters. Ready, Peggy?"
"Ah, no, phrases don't alter matters!" she assented, with a quick liftof speech. "You're going to destroy that will, Billy Woods, simplybecause you think I'm a horrid, mercenary, selfish _pig_. You think Icouldn't give up the money--you think I couldn't be happy without it.Well, you have every right to think so, after the way I've behaved.But why not tell me that is the real reason?"
Billy raised his hand in protest. "I--I think you might miss it," heconceded. "Yes, I think you would miss it."
"Listen!" said Margaret, quickly. "The money is yours now--by my act.You say you--care for me. If I am the sort of woman you think me--Idon't say I am, and I don't say I'm not--but thinking me that sort ofwoman, don't you think I'd--I'd marry you for the asking if you keptthe money? Don't you think you're losing every chance of me by burningthat will? Oh, I'm not standing on conventionalities now! Don't youthink that, Billy?"
She was tempting him to the uttermost; and her heart was sick withfear lest he might yield. This was the Eagle's last battle; andrecreant Love fought with the Eagle against poor Billy, who had onlyhis honour to help him.
Margaret's face was pale as she bent toward him, her lips parted alittle, her eyes glinting eerily in the firelight. The room was darknow save in the small radius of its amber glow; beyond that wasdarkness where panels and brasses blinked.
"Yes," said Billy, gravely--"forgive me if I'm wrong, dear, but--Ido think that. But you see you don't care for me, Peggy. In thesummer-house I thought for a moment--ah, well, you've shown in ahundred ways that you don't care--and I wouldn't have you come to me,not caring. So I'm going to burn the paper, dear."
Margaret bowed her head. Had she ever known happiness before?
"It is not very flattering to me," she said, "but it shows thatyou--care--a great deal. You care enough to--let me go. Ah--yes. Youmay burn it now, Billy."
And promptly he tossed it into the flames. For a moment it layunharmed; then the edges caught and crackled and blazed, and theirheads drew near together as they watched it burn.
There (thought Billy) is the end! Ah, ropes, daggers, and poisons!there is the end! Oh, Peggy. Peggy, if you could only have loved me!if only this accursed money hadn't spoiled you so utterly! Billy wasquite properly miserable over it.
But he raised his head with a smile. "And now," said he--and notwithout a little, little bitterness; "if I have any right t
o adviseyou, Peggy, I--I think I'd be more careful in the future as to how Iused the money. You've tried to do good with it, I know. But everygood cause has its parasites. Don't trust entirely to the Haggages andJukesburys, Peggy, and--and don't desert the good ship Philanthropybecause there are a few barnacles on it, dear."
"You make me awfully tired," Miss Hugonin observed, as she rose to herfeet. "How do you suppose I'm going to do anything for Philanthropy orany other cause when I haven't a penny in the world? You see, you'vejust burned the last will Uncle Fred ever made--the one that lefteverything to me. The one in your favour was probated or proved orwhatever they call it a week ago." I think Billy was surprised.
She stood over him, sharply outlined against the darkness, claspingher hands tightly just under her chin, ludicrously suggestive of apre-Raphaelitish saint. In the firelight her hair was an aureole; andher gown, yellow with multitudinous tiny arabesques of black velvet,echoed the glow of her hair to a shade. The dancing flames made of hera flickering little yellow wraith. And oh, the quaint tenderness ofher eyes!--oh, the hint of faint, nameless perfume she diffused! thusran the meditations of Billy's dizzied brain.
"Listen! I told you I burned the other will. I started to burn it. ButI was afraid to, because I didn't know what they could do to me if Idid. So I put it away in my little handkerchief-box--and if you'd hada _grain_ of sense you'd have noticed the orris on it. And you made mepromise not to take any steps in the matter till you got well. I knewyou would. So I had already sent that second will--sent it before Ipromised you--to Hunston Wyke--he's my lawyer now, you know--and I'veheard from him, and he has probated it."
Billy was making various irrelevant sounds.
"And I brought that other will to you, and if you didn't choose toexamine it more carefully I'm sure it wasn't my fault. I kept my wordlike a perfect gentleman and took no step _whatever_ in the matter.I didn't say a word when before my eyes you stripped me of my entireworldly possessions--you know I didn't. You burned it up yourself,Billy Woods--of your own free will and accord--and now Selwoode andall that detestable money belongs to _you_, and I'm sure I'd like toknow what you are going to do about it. So _there_!"
Margaret faced him defiantly. Billy was in a state of considerableperturbation.
"Why have you done this?" he asked, slowly. But a lucentsomething--half fear, half gladness--was wakening in Billy's eyes.
And her eyes answered him. But her tongue was far less veracious.
"Because you thought I was a _pig_! Because you couldn't makeallowances for a girl who for four years has seen nothing but moneyand money-worshippers and the power of money! Because I wantedyour--your respect, Billy. And you thought I couldn't give it up! Verywell!" Miss Hugonin waved her hand airily toward the hearth. "Now Ihope you know better. _Don't you dare get up, Billy Woods!_"
But I think nothing short of brute force could have kept Mr. Woodsfrom her.
"Peggy," he babbled--"ah, forgive me if I'm a presumptuous ass--butwas it because you knew I couldn't ask you to marry me so long as youhad the money?"
She dallied with her bliss. Margaret was on the other side of thetable.
"Why--why, of course it wasn't!" she panted. "What nonsense!"
"Look at me, Peggy!"
"I don't want to! You look like a fright with your head all tied up."
"Peggy ... this exercise is bad for an invalid."
"I--oh, please sit down! _Please_, Billy! It is bad for you."
"Not until you tell me----"
"But I _don't!_... Oh, you make me _awfully_ tired."
"Peggy, don't you dare stamp your foot at me!... Peggy!"
"_Please_ sit down! Now ... well, there's my hand, stupid, if you_will_ be silly. Now sit down here--so, with your head leaned back onthis nice little cushion because it's good for your poor head--andI'll sit on this nice little footstool and be quite, quite honest. No,you must lean back--I don't care if you can't see me, I'd much ratheryou couldn't. Well, the truth is--no, you _must_ lean back--the truthis--I've loved you all my life, Billy Woods, and--no, not _yet_,Billy--and if you hadn't been the stupidest beautiful in the universeyou'd have seen it long ago. You--you needn't--lean back--any longer,Billy ... Oh, Billy, why _didn't_ you shave?"
"She _is_ skinny, isn't she, Billy?"
"Now, Peggy, you mustn't abuse Kathleen. She's a friend of mine."
"Well, I know she's a friend of yours, but that doesn't prevent herbeing skinny, does it?"
"Now, Peggy--"
"Please, Billy! _Please_ say she's skinny!"
"Er--well, she's a bit thin, perhaps."
"You angel!"
"And you're quite sure you've forgiven me for doubting you?"
"And you've forgiven _me?_"
"Bless you, Peggy, I never doubted you! I've been too busy lovingyou."
"It seems to me as if it had been--_always_."
"Why, didn't we love one another in Carthage, Peggy?"
"I think it was in Babylon, Billy."
"And will love one another----?"
"Forever and ever, dear. You've been to seek a wife, Billy boy."
"And oh, the dimple in her chin..."
* * * * *
Ah, well! There was a deal of foolish prattle there in thefirelight--delectable prattle, irresponsible as the chattering ofbirds after a storm. And I fancy that the Eagle's shadow is liftedfrom Selwoode, now that Love has taken up his abode there.
THE END
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