A Woman Named Smith

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE GREATEST GIFT

  The Author threw his short cape backward, laid one hand upon thehilt of his sword, doffed his cap, and made a sweeping courtesy.

  "Prettily played, Mr. Jelnik!" said he, admiringly. "May one bepermitted to congratulate you, upon your indubitably dramaticinstinct?"

  "All things are permitted; but not all things are expedient," Mr.Jelnik replied evenly.

  "Oh, we know who can quote scripture!" cried The Author; and lookedlongingly at the other's naked throat.

  At which point Doctor Geddes, coming as it were out of a trance,took the situation in hand.

  "Have done with this nonsense!" he ordered sharply. "Alicia, getSophy home; she looks more dead than alive. Jelnik, your declarationputs a new complexion on this affair; but let me tell you flatly Idon't like your method of announcing engagements."

  "Suppose you waive criticism and look after Sophy," suggested Mr.Jelnik. He walked up to his cousin and looked straight in his eyes:"Richard, you're not such a fool as to dare doubt _us_?"

  "Eh?" blinked the doctor, "what? Doubt _Sophy_? I should say not!And you--oh, well, you're a bit of a fool yourself at times, Jelnik,and this seems to be one of the times; but I don't doubt you.However," said the doctor, grimly, "I should like to whale somesense into you with a club!"

  "An ax would be more to the point," murmured The Author,regretfully.

  "In the meantime, Richard," said Mr. Jelnik, with a faint smile,"take Sophy home, please."

  I have a vague recollection of swallowing something that the doctortold me to swallow. Then came blessed oblivion, a sleep so profoundthat I didn't even dream, and didn't awake until that afternoon; tofind the tender face of Alicia again bent over me.

  I waited for her to ask at least one of the many questions she musthave been longing to ask. But Alicia shook her head.

  "Sophy," said she, loyally, "you haven't got to tell me one single,solitary thing unless you really want to. But--isn't this just a bitsudden? I was--surprised."

  "So was I."

  "You see, Sophy, I never once dreamed--"

  "That he cared for me? Neither did I."

  "No. That you cared for him," Alicia puckered her brows.

  "My dear girl," I was trying to feel my way toward letting her havethe truth, "listen: whether or not he is engaged to me, Mr. NicholasJelnik really loves some lady that neither you nor I know. He toldme so himself."

  It took Alicia some moments to recover from that!

  "And yet you're going to marry him, Sophy?"

  "You heard him announce our engagement."

  "I can't understand!" sighed Alicia. "Oh, Sophy, sometimes I couldwish we had never come to Hynds House!"

  "It had to be," I said dully.

  "And--The Author?" ventured Alicia, after a pause. "He thinks youbelong to him by right of discovery. He doesn't accept Mr. Jelnik'sannouncement as final. He told me this morning that his offer stooduntil you actually married somebody else. The Author isn't used tobeing crossed, and he doesn't quite know how to take it."

  "It is on the knees of the gods," I repeated, weariedly.

  Came a gentle tap at the door, and following it the fresh, kind faceof Miss Emmeline.

  "Are you trying to rival the Seven Sleepers?" she asked, gaily, andlaid a bunch of carnations on my knees by way of offering. "JudgeGatchell sent them to me this morning," she explained, with anOctober blush. For the sallow old jurist had taken so great a likingto the Boston reincarnation of a Theban vestal, and was inconsequence so rejuvenated, himself, that all Hyndsville was holdingup the hands of astonishment and biting the finger of conjecture.

  "My dears," said Miss Emmeline, presently, "I want to tell you thesingular dream I had last night, or rather this morning. I was quitetired, for I do not often dance," admitted Miss Emmeline, who hadnevertheless danced with a zest that rivaled that of the youngest,"so I must have fallen asleep immediately upon retiring. Well, then,I dreamed that all those old Hyndses whose portraits are down-stairswere gathered together in the library, to bid farewell to a memberof the family who was going away--that beautiful creature whodisappeared and was never afterward found. Now, aren't dreamsabsurd? She was setting out upon a long journey dressed in alow-necked, short-sleeved brown silk dress trimmed with quantitiesof fine lace. And for goodness' sake what do you think that womanwore over it for a traveling-cloak? Nothing more or less than a grayarmy blanket, a corner of which was thrown over her head like ahood and quite concealed her face.

  "She moved away slowly, holding her blanket as an Indian does.And as she passed me by--for I was standing in the door--a foldslipped, and what do you think she was holding to her breast? Apearl-and-silver crucifix. You can't imagine how I felt when I sawit!"

  I knew how I felt when I had seen it, but that I couldn't tell MissEmmeline. Instead, I held the carnations to my face, to hide mywhitening lips. For once the Boston lady had come into actualcontact with the occult and the unknown.

  "She went out by the back door," continued Miss Emmeline, "and I ranto the window and saw her gray-blanketed figure disappear down thelane, behind the hedge that separates Mr. Jelnik's grounds fromyours. And all the Hyndses called: '_Jessamine, good-by!_' But shenever turned her head once, nor spoke, nor gave a sign that sheheard. She just _went_, leaving me staring after her. I stared sohard that I woke myself up. Now, my dears, wasn't that an odd sortof dream? And so vivid, too! Why, I can hear those voices yet!"

  "Well, I'm glad she went," said Alicia. "Ladies that do up theirheads in blankets and won't answer when they're spoken to, ought togo."

  Mrs. Scarboro, Judge Gatchell, and one of my old ladies were diningwith us that night, for which I thanked Heaven. Judge Gatchelldiscovered in himself a fund of sly humor that astonished everybody,and Miss Emmeline was like a November rose, sweet with a shy andbelated girlishness, rarer for a touch of frost. And The Author wasin a fairly good humor because they let him alone.

  Mr. Nicholas Jelnik dutifully put in his appearance after dinner.The Author was balefully polite to him, Alicia shyly friendly. I hadon a new frock, and the knowledge that it was becoming gave me acourage I should otherwise have lacked. A new frock, pink powder,and a smile, have saved many a fainting feminine soul where prayerand fasting had failed.

  The gentleman who had blandly announced my engagement to himselfonly last night assumed no airs of proprietorship, but was placidlycontent to let me sit and talk to Mr. Johnson, who was holding forthon the merits of our Rhode Island Reds as against either barredPlymouth Rocks or White Leghorns, and the variety of vegetables andsmall fruits in our kitchen-garden, so admirably planned by Schmetz,so carefully and neighborly looked after both by him and Riedriech.From gardens, Mr. Johnson went to cattle; he had a delight in cows,and our cow was a Jersey with a cream-colored complexion, largeblack eyes, and the sentimental temperament. We called her theKissing Cow, because she couldn't see the secretary without tryingto bestow upon him slobbering salutes.

  He paused in his homely talk to smile at something The Author hadjust said. Then his eyes strayed to Mr. Nicholas Jelnik, beingtalked to by Mrs. Scarboro and an apple-faced Confederate withpellucid blue eyes and a renowned trigger-finger.

  "That is the most gifted--and detached--human being I have everknown," said the secretary. "But it is his misfortune to have nosaving responsibilities. What he needs is to fall in love with theright woman and marry her."

  "You mean he should marry some great lady, some dazzling beauty?Naturally."

  "Heaven forbid!" said the secretary, with unexpected vigor. "No, no,Miss Smith, that is not what such a man as Nicholas Jelnik needs!"

  "But it may be what he wants," said I.

  "I should never think so, myself," Mr. Johnson replied thoughtfully;"and I have seen a good deal of him. No, Jelnik doesn't want greatbeauty; he has enough of it himself. For the same reason, he doesn'twant brilliant qualities. He needs quiet, dependable goodness, thechangeless and unswerving affection of a steadfast heart."
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  But I could not agree with this simple-minded young man, who had inhimself the qualities he named. Why, if Nicholas Jelnik asked onlyfor a changeless love, _I_ could have given him full measure, evento the running over thereof!

  "What was Johnson talking to you about, that you both looked soearnest?" Mr. Jelnik wanted to know presently.

  "Oh, just things; flowers and fruits and animals."

  "And people?"

  "People always end by talking about people."

  "Johnson's opinions are generally sound, because he himself is soundto the core," said Mr. Jelnik, quietly.

  "Miss Emmeline says he has got a limpid soul. The Author says it'sreally a sound liver. However that may be, one couldn't live in thesame house with him without conceiving a real affection for him. Heis a very easy person to love."

  Mr. Jelnik's eyebrows went up. "Don't love him too much, please,Sophy. If you feel that you really ought to love somebody, love_me_." The golden lights were in his eyes.

  At that moment I both loved and hated him.

  "Mr. Jelnik," said I, in as low a tone as his own, "it isn't fair totalk to me like this. You did what you did to save me fromannoyance--and--and--misunderstanding. But you are perfectly free:I have no idea of holding you to such an engagement, no, nor offeeling myself bound by it, either."

  "I understand, perfectly, Sophy," he said, after a pause. "And now,may I ask you one or two plain questions, please?"

  "I think you may."

  "You never cared for Geddes?"

  "Good heavens, no! Besides, he--"

  "Wants Alicia? That's obvious. But what about The Author? I'm notenamored of him, myself, but he's an immensely able and clever man.How many brilliant social lights would be willing to shine at thehead of his table! What are you going to do about The Author,Sophy?"

  "What are _you_ going to do about the lady you are really in lovewith?" I countered.

  "I'm waiting to find out," said he, coolly. "Answer my question,please: Do you imagine you love him, Sophy?"

  "It is not unpleasant to me that he should wish me to do so," Iadmitted.

  "I see. You are trying to persuade yourself that you should accepthim."

  "I am not growing younger," I said, with an effort. "Remember, too,that Alicia will be leaving me presently, and I shall then beutterly alone. That is not a pleasing prospect--not to a woman."

  "Nor to a man, either, but better that than a loveless marriage." Hereflected for a moment. "If you are sure you care for the man, tellhim truthfully every incident of last night. Otherwise, I do notfeel like sharing my affairs with him; I do not want to dragJessamine Hynds out of her grave to gratify his curiosity. For hehas the curiosity of a cat, along with the obstinacy of a mule."

  I smiled, wanly. "I gather that I'm not to tell him anything. Whatfurther?" I wanted to know, not without irony.

  "This, then: that you keep on being engaged to me."

  I looked at him incredulously.

  "For the time being, Sophy, submit to my tentative claim. If youdecide to let your--ah--common sense induce you to make what must becalled a brilliant marriage, tell me, and I will go at once. In themeantime, Sophy, I am your friend, to whom your happiness is as dearas his own. Will you believe that?"

  It was not in me to doubt him. "Yes," I said. "And if--the lady youtold me about--you understand--you will tell me, too, will you not?I should like to know, for your happiness is as much to me as minecould possibly be to you."

  "That's the most promising thing you've said yet," he said. "Allright, Sophy: the minute I find out she cares more for me than shedoes for anybody else, I shall certainly let you know. In themeanwhile, don't let being engaged bear too heavily on your spirits._I_ find it very pleasant and exhilarating!"

  "I don't think you ought to talk like that," I demurred.

  "I can't help it: I never was engaged before, and it goes to mytongue."

  "I never was, either. But it doesn't go to _mine_," I reminded him,with dignity.

  "Sophy, you are the only woman in the world who can reproach a manwith her nose and get away with it," he said irrelevantly. "You havethe most eloquent little nose, Sophy!"

  I looked at him reprovingly.

  "I adore being engaged to you, Sophy," said he, unabashed. "Beingengaged to you has a naive freshness that enchants me. It'sromantic, it has the sharp tang of uncertainty, the zest of highadventure. Think how exciting it's going to be to wake o' morningsthinking: 'Here is a whole magic day to be engaged to Sophy in!' Bythe way, would you mind addressing me as 'Nicholas'? It is customaryunder the circumstances, I believe."

  "I do not like the name of Nicholas."

  "I feared so, seeing the extreme care with which you avoid it. Thatis why I suggest that you should immediately begin to use it.Practice makes perfect. Observe with what ease I manage to say'Sophy' already," he said airily. "I'm glad your hair's just thatblonde, and soft, Sophy. I couldn't possibly be engaged to a womanwho didn't have hair like yours."

  I looked at his, and said with conviction:

  "How absurd! Black hair is incomparably more beautiful!"

  His eyes danced.

  "Sophy!" said he, in a thrilling whisper, "Sophy, _The Author's hairis brindle_!"

  I got up and incontinently left him. And I saw with stern joy howMrs. Scarboro again seized upon and made him listen to tales of hisgrandfather, until in desperation he fled to the piano, and playedHungarian music with such effect that even The Author was moved torapture.

  "Jelnik!" said The Author, enthusiastically, "I shall put you in mynext book. Gad, man, what a magnificent scoundrel I shall make ofyou!" A remark which scandalized Mrs. Scarboro and startled my dearold lady, but didn't phase Mr. Jelnik.

  I found myself growing more and more confounded and confused. Was I,or wasn't I, engaged to a man who had never asked me to marry him?In the vernacular, I didn't know where I was at any more.

  Alicia added to this confusion.

  "Sophy," said she, some time later, "isn't it just possible youmisunderstood Mr. Jelnik? About his being in love with somebodyelse, I mean."

  "I don't know what makes you think so."

  "Don't you? I'll show you," she said, and swung me around to face amirror. "_That's_ what makes me think so. Sophy Smith, unless he's aliar--and Peacocks and Ivory couldn't be a liar to save hislife--the woman Nicholas Jelnik loves looks back at you every timeyou look in the glass."

  I shook my head. I have never been able to tell pleasant lies tomyself.

  "Well, we'll see what we'll see! I told you once before that youhadn't caught up with the change in yourself." And she kissed me andlaughed. It came to me that she couldn't have cared much for him,herself, to be able to laugh that light-heartedly.

  * * * * *

  When Miss Emmeline and the English folk were leaving Hynds House,everybody in Hyndsville turned out to say "Good-by." Even our lankyold Judge was on hand, with a great bunch of carnations and a hugebox of bonbons for Miss Emmeline.

  "Sophy," Miss Emmeline said, smiling, "I don't see anything left forme to do but come back to Hyndsville, do you?"

  "No, I don't. And come soon. Hynds House won't feel the same withoutyou. I thought of all she had taught me by just being her fine,frank self, and looked at her gratefully. She looked back at mequizzically, and of a sudden she slipped her arm around myshoulders.

  "Sophy Smith," said she, softly, "I have met many women in my time,many far more brilliant and beautiful, and what the world callsgifted, than you. But I have met none with a greater capacity forunselfish loving. It's easy enough to win love, a harder thing tokeep it, but divinest of all to give it and keep on giving it. Andthere's where your great gift lies, Sophy." And she kissed me, withmisty eyes, and such a tender face!

  That put such a friendly, warm glow in my heart that I was sorry topart even with the Englishman's daughter, Athena though she was, andI mortally afraid of her. As for her father, he was bewailing theparting with Alicia, whose Irishnes
s was a manna in the wildernessto him.

  "It's like saying good-by to the Fountain of Youth," he lamented."You're more than a pretty girl: you're the eternal feminine inIrish!"

  "She's the Eternal Irish in proper English, that's what she is!"said The Author darkly, and looked so wise that everybody lookedrespectful, though nobody knew what he meant. Perhaps he didn'tknow, himself.

  After the train had gone, Doctor Geddes hustled us into his waitingcar.

  "I'm going to take you for a quiet spin in the country, to make thebetter acquaintance of Madame Spring-in-Carolina," he said. A fewminutes later he swung the car into a lonesome and lovely road edgedwith pines, and sassafras, and sumach, and cassena bushes, andfestooned with vines. Madame Spring-in-Carolina had coaxed the greenthings to come out and grow, and the people of the sky to try theirjeweled wings in her fine new sunlight. The Judas-tree was red, thedogwood white, the honey-locust a breath from Eden. A blossomy windcame out of the heart of the world, and there were birds everywhere,impudently eloquent.

  We didn't want to talk, or even to think; we just wanted to be aliveand glad with everything else. The very car seemed to feel somethingof this intoxication, for as it went flying down the road it hummedand purred and sang snatches of the Song of Speed to itself. Weturned a corner, I remember. And then there was a frightful lurchand jar, and the big car bounded into the air, and turned over inthe ditch. I remember the rear wheels turning with a grinding,spitting noise.

  When I woke up, Alicia was sitting by the side of the road, with thedoctor's head in her lap, and I was lying on the grass near by. Hereyes were big and blank in a bloodless face, and the curling ends ofher long bright hair hung in the dust. There was a cruel red mark onher forehead. Otherwise she was quite uninjured. I wasn't consciousof any pain myself--not then, at least.

  "Sophy," Alicia said, impersonally, "Doctor Geddes is dead." And shefell to stroking his cheek lightly, with one finger; "quite dead.Without one word to me, Sophy!"

  The figure on the ground looked dreadfully still and helpless. Therewas something ghastly wrong in seeing so strong a man lie so stilland helpless. And the road, an unfrequented one, was unutterablylonesome. There was nothing, nobody in sight--nothing but thebuzzard, black against the blue sky, tipping his wings to the wind.

  "You must go for help," I mumbled.

  "I dare not leave him. I know he's dead, Sophy. But--he might openhis eyes, just once more. You see, he didn't know, before he--died,that I was very much in love with him--oh, terribly in love withhim, Sophy!--from the first time I saw him standing in our door. Ithought you cared for him, too, Sophy dear--and I sent him away fromme-- And now he has gotten himself killed." With a gentle touch shepushed back the thick reddish hair from his forehead. She looked atme imploringly: "Don't let him be dead, Sophy! For God's sake,Sophy, don't let him be dead! Make him open his eyes, Sophy!"

  A negro teamster came upon us, recognized the doctor, shrieked, andset off for help, lashing his mules into a mad run. But Alicia nevermoved, and I huddled beside her, numb and silent, looking at thewhite face upon her knees. With all the impatience wiped out, it wasa fine face, at once strong and sweet.

  "Richard," said Alicia, "Richard, if I had been killed, and youbegged and prayed me from your breaking heart to listen to you, tounderstand that you'd cared for me, only me, all along, _somehow_I'd manage to let you know I understood. Richard, listen to me! Openyour eyes, Richard. Please, please, Richard, open your eyes!"

  Her voice was so piteous that I fell to weeping. And, by the mercyof God, Richard opened his eyes and stared with blue blanknessstraight into Alicia's quivering, anguished face.

  "Richard," said she, bending down to him, "my dear, dear love, keepyour eyes open just a little longer, until I can make youunderstand. Oh, Richard, I cared! Indeed, indeed, I cared!"

  The blue stare never wavered. It gathered intensity.

  "Don't, don't look at me like that, Richard!" cried Alicia,beginning to sob wildly. "Don't--don't look so--so _angelic_, dear.Look like your own self at me, Richard! Oh, darling, for our dearGod's mercy's sake, please, please try to look bad-tempered justonce more!"

  His pale lips twitched curiously. He sighed. Then he murmuredsomething that sounded like "not sure."

  "Not sure?" wept Alicia. "Oh, my heart, my heart!"

  "I think--could die in peace--say 'I love you, Richard,'" murmuredthe doctor.

  "Oh, I do, I do love you, Richard--_frightfully_!" sobbed Alicia. "Ilove you with all my heart!"

  The corpse sat up, and for a dead man he showed considerable life.Painfully he rose, and stood staggering on his feet, big, pale,shaken, with a bump the size of an egg on the side of his head, butwith such shining blue eyes! He put out a big hand and liftedAlicia from the ground.

  "Leetchy," said Doctor Geddes, "if you ever take back what you'vesaid I shall be sorry I wasn't killed. But I don't mind stayingalive if you'll keep on loving me. If I stay alive, will you marryme, Leetchy?"

  "If you don't, I can't m-m-marry any-anybody at all!" wailed Alicia.

  "Amen!" said the doctor. "Now stop crying, and put your hand into mypocket, and you'll find something that's been owing you this longtime, Leetchy."

  Alicia blinked, and rubbed her eyes, then slipped her hand into hisbreast pocket and drew forth a small, square, satin-lined box; aninviting box.

  "Richard!" she exclaimed, "why, Richard!" Then: "Of all theimpudence!" cried Alicia, scandalized. "Why, you haven't even_asked_ me! Whoever in this world heard of buying a girl's ringbefore she's said 'Yes'?"

  "Alicia," said Doctor Richard Geddes, "I'm your Man, and you knowit. And you're my Girl, and I know it. Here, let's see if this thingfits."

  Meekly Alicia, the impudent, the flirt, held out her slim hand.

  "That's settled, thank God!" said the doctor. And he swept herclear off her feet, and kissed her with thoroughness and enthusiasm.

  "Richard! People are coming! They'll see you!"

  "Let 'em!"

  I sat there quietly, and stared at the two of them with a sort ofvacant watchfulness. My hat was gone, my hairpins had taken untothemselves wings, and my hair, covered with dust, hung about me likea veil. I was just beginning to be conscious of pain. It was ashuddering pain, new and cruel, and I winced. The next minute Aliciawas kneeling beside me, and her face had again become quitecolorless.

  "Sophy!" her voice sounded shrill and far off. "Sophy, you said youwere all right!--Richard, look at Sophy!"

  I felt the doctor's swift, deft hands upon me. And more pain. Peoplewere arriving now. Cars stopped, and excited men and womensurrounded us. One tall figure leaped from the first car and reachedus ahead of all others.

  "Geddes!" cried a voice. "Thank God, Geddes! We were told you'd beenkilled outright! Alicia all right, too?" Then: "Sophy!" This time itwas a cry of terror. "Never tell me it's Sophy!"

  I saw his face bent over me. Then a red mist came, and theneverything went dark.