CHAPTER XXXIII
WAITING FOR THE END OF THE STORY
At home on the Hill Ruth's affairs developed slowly. It was in timeascertained from Australia that the Farringdon pearls had come to Americain the possession of Miss Farringdon who was named Elinor Ruth, daughterof Roderick and Esther Farringdon, both deceased. What had become of herand her pearls no one knew. Grave fears had been entertained as to thegirl's safety because of her prolonged silence and the utter failure ofall the advertising for her which had gone on in English and Americanpapers. She had come to America to join an aunt, one Mrs. Robert Wright,widow of a New York broker, but it had been later ascertained that Mrs.Wright had left for England before her niece could have reached her andhad subsequently died having caught a fever while engaged in nursing in amilitary hospital. Roderick Farringdon, the brother of Elinor Ruth, anaviator in His Majesty's service, was reported missing, believed to bedead or in a German prison somewhere. The lawyers in charge of the hugebusiness interests of the two young Farringdons were in grave distressbecause of their inability to locate either of the owners and begged thatif Doctor Laurence Holiday knew anything of the whereabouts of MissFarringdon that he would communicate without delay with them.
So far so good. Granted that Ruth was presumably Elinor Ruth Farringdonof Australia. Was she or was she not married? There had been noopportunity in the cables to make inquiry about one Geoffrey Annersleythough Larry had put that important question first in his letter to theconsul which as yet had received no answer. The lawyers stated that whenMiss Farringdon had left Australia she was not married butunsubstantiated rumors had reached them from San Francisco hinting at herpossible marriage there.
All this failed to stir Ruth's dormant memory in any degree. There wasnothing to do but wait until further information should be forthcoming.
Not unnaturally these facts had a somewhat different effect upon the twoindividuals most concerned. Ruth was frankly elated over the whole thingand found it by no means impossible to believe that she was a princess indisguise though she had played Cinderella contentedly enough.
On the strength of her presumable princessship she had gone on anotherexcursion to Boston carrying the Lambert twins with her this time and hadreturned laden with all manner of feminine fripperies. She had anexquisite taste and made unerringly for the softest and finest offabrics, the hats with an "air," the dresses that were the simplest, themost ravishing and it must be admitted also the most extravagant. If sheremembered nothing else Ruth remembered how to spend royally.
She had consulted the senior doctor before making the splendid plunge.She did not want to have Larry buy her anything more and she didn't wantDoctor Philip and Margery to think her stark mad to go behaving like aprincess before the princess purse was actually in her hands. But she hadto have pretty things, a lot of them, had to have them quick. Did thedoctor mind very much advancing her some money? He could keep her ringsas security.
He had laughed indulgently and declared as the rings and the pearls toofor that matter were in his possession in the safe deposit box he shouldworry. He also told her to go ahead and be as "princessy" as she liked.He would take the risk. Whereupon he placed a generous sum of money ather account in a Boston bank and sent her away with his blessing and anamused smile at the femininity of females. And Ruth had gone and playedprincess to her heart's content. But there was little enough of heart'scontent in any of it for poor Larry. Day by day it seemed to him he couldsee his fairy girl slipping away from him. Ruth was a great lady andheiress. Who was Larry Holiday to take advantage of the fact thatcircumstances had almost thrown her into his willing arms?
Moreover the information afforded as to Roderick Farringdon had put a newidea into his head. Roderick was reported "missing." Was it not possiblethat Geoffrey Annersley might be in the same category? Missing mensometimes stayed missing in war time but sometimes also they returned asfrom the dead from enemy prisons or long illnesses. What if this shouldbe the case with the man who was presumably Ruth's husband? Certainly itput out of the question, if there ever had been a question in Larry'smind, his own right to marry the girl he loved until they knew absolutelythat the way was clear.
Considering these things it was not strange that the new year found LarryHoliday in heavy mood, morose, silent, curt and unresponsive even to hisuncle, inclined at times to snap even at his beloved little Goldilockswhose shining new happiness exasperated him because he could not shareit. Of course he repented in sack cloth and ashes afterward, butrepentance did not prevent other offenses and altogether the young doctorwas ill to live with during those harrassed January days.
It was not only Ruth. Larry could not take Ted's going with the quietfortitude with which his uncle met it. Those early weeks of nineteenhundred and seventeen were black ones for many. The grim Moloch Wardemanded more and ever more victims. Thousands of gay, brave, highspirited lads like Ted were mown down daily by shrapnel and machine gunor sent twisted and writhing to still more hideous death in theunspeakable horror of noxious gases. It was all so unnecessary--sosenseless. Larry Holiday whose life was dedicated to the healing andsaving of men's bodies hated with bitter hate this opposing force whichwas all for destruction and which held the groaning world in itsrelentless grip. It would not have been so bad he thought if the Molochwould have been content to take merely the old, the life weary, thediseased, the vile. Not so. It demanded the young, the strong, the cleanand gallant hearted, took their bodies, maimed and tortured them, killedthem sooner or later, hurled them undiscriminatingly into the bottomlesspit of death.
To Larry it all came back to Ted. Ted was the embodiment, the symbol ofthe rest. He was the young, the strong, the clean and gallanthearted--the youth of the world, a vain sacrifice to the cruel blindnessof a so called civilization which would not learn the futility of war andall the ways of war.
So while Ruth bought pretty clothes and basked in happy anticipationswhich for her took the place of memories, poor Larry walked in darkplaces and saw no single ray of light.
One afternoon he was summoned to the telephone to receive the word thatthere was a telegram for him at the office. It was Dunbury's informalhabit to telephone messages of this sort to the recipient instead ofdelivering them in person. Larry took the repeated word in silence. Aquestion evidently followed from the other end.
"Yes, I got it," Larry snapped back and threw the receiver back in placewith vicious energy. His uncle who had happened to be near looked up toask a question but the young doctor was already out of the room leavingonly the slam of the door in his wake. A few moments later the older mansaw the younger start off down the Hill in the car at a speed which wasnot unlike Ted's at his worst before the smash on the Florence road.Evidently Larry was on the war path. Why?
The afternoon wore on. Larry did not return. His uncle began to beseriously disturbed. A patient with whom the junior doctor had had anappointment came and waited and finally went away somewhat indignant inspite of all efforts to soothe her not unnatural wrath. Worse andworse! Larry never failed his appointments, met every obligationinvariably as punctiliously as if for professional purposes he wasoperated by clock work.
At supper time Phil Lambert dropped in with the wire which had alreadybeen reported to Larry and which the company with the same informalityalready mentioned had asked him to deliver. Doctor Holiday was tempted toread it but refrained. Surely the boy would be home soon.
The evening meal was rather a silent one. Ruth was wearing a charmingdark blue velvet gown which Larry especially liked. The doctor guessedthat she had dressed particularly for her lover and was sadlydisappointed when he failed to put in his appearance. She droopedperceptibly and her blue eyes were wistful.
An hour later when the three, Margery, her husband, and Ruth, weresitting quietly engaged in reading in the living room they heard thesound of the returning car. All three were distinctly conscious of aninvoluntary breath of relief which permeated the room. Nobody had said aword but every one of them had been filled wit
h foreboding.
Presently Larry entered with the yellow envelope in his hand. He was paleand very tired looking but obviously entirely in command of himselfwhatever had been the case earlier in the day. He crossed the room towhere his uncle sat and handed him the telegram.
"Please read it aloud," he said. "It--it concerns all of us."
The older doctor complied with the request.
_Arrive Dunbury January 18 nine forty_ A.M. So ran the brief thoughpregnant message. It was signed _Captain Geoffrey Annersley_.
The color went out of Ruth's face as she heard the name. She put herhands over her eyes and uttered a little moan. Then abruptly she droppedher hands, the color came surging back into her cheeks and she ran toLarry, fairly throwing herself into his arms.
"I don't want to see him. Don't let him come. I hate him. I don't want tobe Elinor Farringdon. I want to be just Ruth--Ruth Holiday," shewhispered the last in Larry's ear, her head on his shoulder.
Larry kissed her for the first time before the others, then meeting hisuncle's grave eyes he put her gently from him and walked over to thedoor. On the threshold he turned and faced them all.
"Uncle Phil--Aunt Margery, help Ruth. I can't." And the doorclosed upon him.
Philip and Margery did their best to obey his parting injunction but itwas not an easy task. Ruth was possessed by a very panic of dread ofGeoffrey Annersley and an even more difficult to deal with flood of lovefor Larry Holiday.
"I don't want anybody but Larry," she wailed over and over. "It is LarryI love. I don't love Geoffrey Annersley. I won't let him be my husband. Idon't want anybody but Larry."
In vain they tried to comfort her, entreat her to wait until to-morrowbefore she gave up. Perhaps Geoffrey Annersley wasn't her husband.Perhaps everything was quite all right. She must try to have patience andnot let herself get sick worrying in advance.
"He _is_ my husband," she suddenly announced with startling conviction."I remember his putting the ring on my finger. I remember his saying'You've got to wear it. It is the only thing to do. You must.' I rememberwhat he looks like--almost. He is tall and he has a scar on his cheek--here." She patted her own face feverishly to show the spot. "He made mewear the ring and I didn't want to. I didn't want to. Oh, don't let meremember. Don't let me," she implored.
At this point the doctor took things in his own hands. The child wasobviously beginning to remember. The shock of the man's coming hadsnapped something in her brain. They must not let things come backtoo disastrously fast. He packed her off to bed with a stiff dose ofnerve quieting medicine. Margery sat with her arms tight around theforlorn little sufferer and presently the dreary sobbing ceased andthe girl drifted off to exhausted sleep, nature's kindest panacea forall human ills.
Meanwhile the doctor sought out Larry. He found him in the officeapparently completely absorbed in the perusal of a medical magazine. Helooked up quickly as the older man entered and answered the question inhis eyes giving assurance that Ruth was quite all right, would soon beasleep if she was not already. He made no mention of that disconcertingflash of memory. Sufficient unto the day was the trouble thereof.
He came over and laid a kindly, encouraging hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Keep up heart a little longer," he said. "By tomorrow you willknow where you stand and that will be something, no matter whichway it turns."
"I should say it would," groaned Larry. "I'm sick of being in alabyrinth. Even the worst can't be much worse than not knowing. You don'tknow how tough it has been, Uncle Phil."
"I can make a fairly good guess at it, my boy. I've seen and understoodmore than you realize perhaps. You have put up a magnificent fight, son.And you are the boy who once told me he was a coward."
"I am afraid I still am, Uncle Phil,--sometimes."
"We all are, Larry, cowards in our hearts, but that does not matter solong as the yellow streak doesn't get into our acts. You have not letthat happen I think."
Larry was silent. He was remembering that night when Ruth had come tohim. He wasn't very proud of the memory. He wondered if his uncle guessedhow near the yellow streak had come to the surface on that occasion.
"I don't deserve as much credit as you are giving me," he said humbly."There have been times--at least one time--" He broke off.
"You would have been less than a man if there had not been, Larry. Iunderstand all that. But on the whole you know and I know that you have aclean slate to show. Don't let yourself get morbid worrying about thingsyou might have done and didn't. They don't worry me. They needn't worryyou. Forget it."
"Uncle Phil! You are great the way you always clear away the fogs. But myclean slate is a great deal thanks to you. I don't know where I wouldhave landed if you hadn't held me back, not so much by what you said aswhat you are. Ted isn't the only one who has learned to appreciate what apillar of strength we all have in you. However this comes out I shan'tforget what you did for me, are doing all the time."
"Thank you, Larry. It is good to hear things like that though I think youunderestimate your own strength. I am thankful if I have helped in anydegree. I have felt futile enough. We all have. At any rate the strain isabout over. The telegram must have been a knock down blow though. Wherewere you this afternoon?"
"I don't know. I just drove like the devil--anywhere. Did you worry? I amsorry. Good Lord! I cut my appointment with Mrs. Blake, didn't I? I neverthought of it until this minute. Gee! I am worse than Ted. Used to thinkI had some balance but evidently I am a plain nut. I'm disgusted withmyself and I should think you would be more disgusted with me." The boylooked up at his uncle with eyes that were full of shamed compunction.
But the latter smiled back consolingly.
"Don't worry. There are worse things in the world than cutting anappointment for good and sufficient reasons. You will get back yourbalance when things get normal again. I have no complaint to make anyway.You have kept up the professional end splendidly until now. What you needis a good long vacation and I am going to pack you off on one at theearliest opportunity. Do you want me to meet Captain Annersley for youtomorrow?" he switched off to ask.
Larry shook his head.
"No, I'll meet him myself, thank you. It is my job. I am not going toflunk it. If he is Ruth's husband I am going to be the first to shakehands with him."