Wild Wings

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  ALAN MASSEY LOSES HIMSELF

  While Ruth and Larry steered their storm tossed craft of love into smoothhaven at last; while Ted came into his own in the Canadian training campand Tony played Broadway to her heart's content, the two Masseys down inMexico drifted into a strange pact of friendship.

  Had there been no other ministrations offered save those of creaturecomfort alone Dick would have had cause to be immensely grateful to AlanMassey. To good food, good nursing and material comfort the young manreacted quickly for he was a healthy young animal and had no bad habitsto militate against recovery.

  But there was more than creature comfort in Alan's service. Without thelatter's presence loneliness, homesickness and heartache would havegnawed at the younger man retarding his physical gains. With AlanMassey life even on a sick bed took on fascinating colors like a prismin sunlight.

  For the sick lad's delectation Alan spun long thrilling tales, many ofthem based on personal experience in his wide travels in many lands. Hewas a magnificent raconteur and Dick propped up among his pillows drankit all in, listening like another Desdemona to strange moving accidentsof fire and flood which his scribbling soul recognized as superb copy.

  Often too Alan read from books, called in the masters of the pen to setthe listener's eager mind atravel through wondrous, unexplored worlds.Best of all perhaps were the twilight hours when Alan quoted longpassages of poetry from memory, lending to the magic of the poet's arthis own magic of voice and intonation. These were wonderful moments toDick, moments he was never to forget. He drank deep of the soul vintagewhich the other man offered him out of the abundance of his experience asa life long pilgrim in the service of beauty.

  It was a curious relation--this growing friendship between the two men.In some respects they were as master and pupil, in others were as man andman, friend and friend, almost brother and brother. When Alan Massey gaveat all he gave magnificently without stint or reservation. He did now.And when he willed to conquer he seldom if ever failed. He did not now.He won, won first his cousin's liking, respect, and gratitude and finallyhis loyal friendship and something else that was akin to reverence.

  Tony Holiday's name was seldom mentioned between the two. Perhaps theyfeared that with the name of the girl they both loved there might returnalso the old antagonistic forces which had already wrought too muchhavoc. Both sincerely desired peace and amity and therefore the woman whoheld both their hearts in her keeping was almost banished from the talkof the sick room though she was far from forgotten by either.

  So things went on. In time Dick was judged by the physician well enoughto take the long journey back to New York. Alan secured the tickets, madeall the arrangements, permitting Dick not so much as the lifting of afinger in his own behalf. And just then came Tony Holiday's letter toAlan telling him she was his whenever he wanted her since he had clearedthe shield forever in her eyes by what he had done for Dick. She trustedhim, knew he would not ask her to marry him unless he was quite freemorally and every other way to ask her. She wanted him, could not besurer of his love or her own if she waited a dozen years. He meant moreto her than her work, more than her beloved freedom more even thanHoliday Hill itself although she felt that she was not so much desertingthe Hill as bringing Alan to it. The others would learn to love him too.They must, because she loved him so much! But even if they did not shehad made her choice. She belonged to him first of all.

  "But think, dear," she finished. "Think well before you take me. Don'tcome to me at all unless you can come free, with nothing on your soulthat is going to prevent your being happy with me. I shall ask noquestions if you come. I trust you to decide right for us both becauseyou lave me in the high way as well as all the other ways."

  Alan took this letter of Tony's out into the night, walked with itthrough flaming valleys of hell. She was his. Of her own free will shehad given herself to him, placed him higher in her heart at last thaneven her sacred Hill. And yet after all the Hill stood between them, inthe challenge she flung at him. She was his to take if he could comefree. She left the decision to him. She trusted him.

  Good God! Why should he hesitate to take what she was willing to give? Hehad atoned, saved his cousin's life, lived decently, honorably as he hadpromised, kept faith with Tony herself when he might perhaps have won heron baser terms than he had made himself keep to because he loved her asshe said "in the high way as well as all the other ways." He wouldcontrive some way of giving his cousin back the money. He did not wantit. He only wanted Tony and her love. Why in the name of all the devilsshould he who had sinned all his life, head up and eyes open, balk atthis one sin, the negative sin of mere silence, when it would give himwhat he wanted more than all the world? What was he afraid of? The answerhe would not let himself discover. He was afraid of Tony Holiday's cleareyes but he was more afraid of something else--his own soul which somehowTony had created by loving and believing in him.

  All the next day, the day before they were to leave on the northernjourney, Alan behaved as if all the devils of hell which he had invokedwere with him. The old mocking bitterness of tongue was back, an evenmore savage light than Dick remembered that night of their quarrel was inhis green eyes. The man was suddenly acidulated as if he had over nightsuffered a chemical transformation which had affected both mind and body.A wild beast tortured, evil, ready to pounce, looked out of his drawn,white face.

  Dick wondered greatly what had caused the strange reaction and seeingthe other was suffering tremendously for some reason or otherunexplained and perhaps inexplicable was profoundly sorry. Hisfriendship for the man who had saved his life was altogether too strongand deep to be shaken by this temporary lapse into brutality which hehad known all along was there although held miraculously in abeyancethese many weeks. The man was a genius, with all the temperamentalfluctuations of mood which are comprehensible and forgivable in agenius. Dick did not begrudge the other any relief he might find in hisdebauch of ill humor, was more than willing he should work it off on hishumble self if it could do any good though he would be immenselyrelieved when the old friendly Alan came back.

  Twilight descended. Dick turned from the mirror after a critical surveyof his own lean, fever parched, yellow countenance.

  "Lord! I look like a peanut," he commenced disgustedly. "I say, Massey,when we get back to New York I think I should choke anybody if I were youwho dared to say we looked alike. One must draw the line somewhere atwhat constitutes a permissible insult." He grinned whimsically at his ownexpense, turned back to the mirror. "Upon my word, though, I believe itis true. We do look alike. I never saw it until this minute. Funnythings--resemblances."

  "This isn't so funny," drawled Alan. "We had the same great grandfather."

  Dick whirled about staring at the other man as if he thought himsuddenly gone mad.

  "What! What do you know about my great grandfather? Do you knowwho I am?"

  "I do. You are John Massey, old John's grandson, the chap I told you oncewas dead and decently buried. I hoped it was true at the time but itwasn't a week before I knew it was a lie. I found out John Massey wasalive and that he was going under the name of Dick Carson. Do you wonderI hated you?"

  Dick sat down, his face white. He looked and was utterly dazed.

  "I don't understand," he said. "Do you mind explaining? It--it is alittle hard to get all at once."

  And then Alan Massey told the story that no living being save himselfknew. He spared himself nothing, apologised for nothing, expressed noregret, asked for no palliation of judgment, forgiveness or evenunderstanding. Quietly, apparently without emotion, he gave back to theother man the birthright he had robbed him of by his selfish anddishonorable connivance with a wicked old man now beyond the power of anyvengeance or penalty. Dick Carson was no longer nameless but as helistened tensely to his cousin's revelations he almost found it in hisheart to wish he were. It was too terrible to have won his name at such acost. As he listened, watching Alan's eyes burn in the dusk in s
trangecontrast to his cool, liquid, studiously tranquil voice, Dick remembereda line Alan himself had read him only the other day, "Hell, the shadow ofa soul on fire," the Persian phrased it. Watching, Dick Carson saw beforehim a sadder thing, a soul which had once been on fire and was now butgray ashes. The flame had blazed up, scorched and blackened its path. Itwas over now, burnt out. At thirty-three Alan Massey was through, hadlived his life, had given up. The younger man saw this with a pang whichhad no reactive thought of self, only compassion for the other.

  "That is all, I think," said Alan at last. "I have all the proofs of youridentity with me. I never could destroy them somehow though I have meantto over and over again. On the same principle I suppose that the sinningmonk sears the sign of the cross on his breast though he makes no outwardconfession to the world and means to make none. I never meant to makemine. I don't know why I am doing it now. Or rather I do. I couldn'tmarry Tony with this thing between us. I tried to think I could, that I'dmade up to you by saving your life, that I was free to take my happinesswith her because I loved her and she loved me. And she does love me. Shewrote me yesterday she would marry me whenever I wished. I could have hadher. But I couldn't take her that way. I couldn't have made her happy.She would have read the thing in my soul. She is too clean and honest andtrue herself not to feel the presence of the other thing when it camenear her. I have tried to tell myself love was enough, that it would makeup to her for the rest. It isn't enough. You can't build life orhappiness except on the quarry stuff they keep on Holiday Hill, right,honor, decency. You know that. Tony forgave my past. I believe she isgenerous enough to forgive even this and go on with me. But I shan't askher. I won't let her. I--I've given her up with the rest."

  The speaker came over to where Dick sat, silent, stunned.

  "Enough of that. I have no wish to appeal to you in any way. The nextmove is yours. You can act as you please. You can brand me as acriminal if you choose. It is what I am, guilty in the eyes of the lawas well as in my own eyes and yours. I am not pleading innocence. I ampleading unqualified guilt. Understand that clearly. I knew what I wasdoing when I did it. I have known ever since. I've never been blind tothe rottenness of the thing. At first I did it for the money because Iwas afraid of poverty and honest work. And then I went on with it forTony, because I loved her and wouldn't give her up to you. Now I'vegiven up the last ditch. The name is yours and the money is yours andif you can win Tony she is yours. I'm out of the face for good and all.But we have to settle just how the thing is going to be done. And thatis for you to say."

  "I wish I needn't do anything about it," said Dick slowly after a moment."I don't want the money. I am almost afraid of it. It seems accursedsomehow considering what it did to you. Even the name I don't seem tocare so much about just now thought I have wanted a name as I have neverwanted anything else in the world except Tony. It was mostly for her Iwanted it. See here, Alan, why can't we make a compromise? You sayRoberts wrote two letters and you have both. Why can't we destroy the oneand send the other to the lawyers, the one that lets you out? It isnobody's business but ours. We can say that the letter has just falleninto your hands with the other proof that I am the John Massey that wasstolen. That would straighten the thing out for you. I've no desire tobrand you in any way. Why should I after all I owe you? You have made upa million times by saving my life and by the way you have given the thingover now. Anyway one doesn't exact payment from one's friends. And youare my friend, Alan. You offered me friendship. I took it--was proud totake it. I am proud now, prouder than ever."

  And rising Dick Carson who was no longer Dick Carson but John Massey heldout his hand to the man who had wronged him so bitterly. The paraquet inthe corner jibbered harshly. Thunder rumbled heavily outside. An eerilyvivid flash of lightning dispelled for a moment the gloom of the dusk asthe two men clasped hands.

  "John Massey!" Alan's voice with its deep cello quality was vibrant withemotion. "You don't know what that means to me. Men have called me manythings but few have ever called me friend except in lip service for whatthey thought they could get out of it. And from you--well, I can onlysay, I thank you."

  "We are the only Masseys. We ought to stand together," said Dick simply.

  Alan smiled though the room was too dark for Dick to see.

  "We can't stand together. I have forfeited the right. You chose the highroad long ago and I chose the other. We have both to abide by ourchoices. We can't change those things at will. Spare me the publicrevelation if you care to. I shall be glad for Tony's sake. For myself itdoesn't matter much. I don't expect to cross your path or hers again. Iam going to lose myself. Maybe some day you will win her. She will beworth the winning. But don't hurry her if you want to win. She will haveto get over me first and that will take time."

  "She will never get over you, Alan. I know her. Things go deep with her.They do with all the Holidays. You shan't lose yourself. There is no needof it. Tony loves you. You must stay and make her happy. You can now youare free. She need never know the worst of this any more than the rest ofthe world need know. We can divide the money. It is the only way I amwilling to have any of it."

  Alan shook his head.

  "We can divide nothing, not the money and not Tony's love. I told you Iwas giving it all up. You cannot stop me. No man has ever stopped me fromdoing what I willed to do. I have a letter or two to write now and soI'll leave you. I am glad you don't hate me, John Massey. Shall we shakehands once more and then--good-night?"

  Their hands met again. A sharp glare of lightning lit the room withominous brilliancy for a moment. The paraquet screamed raucously. Andthen the door closed on Alan Massey.

  An hour later a servant brought word to Dick that an American was belowwaiting to speak to him. He descended with the card in his hand. The namewas unfamiliar, Arthur Hallock of Chicago, mining engineer.

  The stranger stood in the hall waiting while Dick came down the stairs.He was obviously ill at ease.

  "I am Hallock," announced the visitor. "You are Richard Carson?"

  Dick nodded. Already the name was beginning to sound strange on his ears.In one hour he had gotten oddly accustomed to knowing that he was JohnMassey. And no longer needed Tony's name, dear as it was.

  "I am sorry to be the bearer of ill news, Mr. Carson," the strangerproceeded. "You have a friend named Alan Massey living here with you?"

  Again Dick nodded. He was apprehensive at the mention of Alan's name.

  "There was a riot down there." The speaker pointed down the street. "Afuss over an American flag some dirty German dog had spit at. It didn'ttake long to start a life sized row. We are all spoiling for a chance tostick a few of the pigs ourselves whether we're technically at war ornot. A lot of us collected, your friend Massey among the rest. Iremember particularly when he joined the mob because he was so muchtaller than the rest of us and came strolling in as if he was going toan afternoon tea instead of getting into an international mess withnearly all the contracting parties drunk and disorderly. There was agood deal of excitement and confusion. I don't believe anybody knowsjust what happened but a drunken Mexican drew a dagger somewhere in themix up and let it fly indiscriminate like. We all scattered likemischief when we saw the thing flash. Nobody cares much for that kind ofplaything at close range. But Massey didn't move. It got him, clean inthe heart. He couldn't have suffered a second. It was all over in abreath. He fell and the mob made itself scarce. Another fellow and Iwere the first to get to him but there wasn't anything to do but look inhis pockets and find out who he was. We found his name on a card withthis address and your name scribbled on it in pencil. I say, Mr. Carson,I am horribly sorry," suddenly perceiving Dick's white face. "You care alot, don't you?"

  "I care a lot," said Dick woodenly. "He was my cousin and--my bestfriend."

  "I am sorry," repeated the young engineer. "Mr. Carson, there issomething else I feel as if I had to say though I shan't say it to anyone else. Massey might have dodged with the rest of us. He saw it comingjust as we did. He w
aited for it and I saw him smile as it came--a queersmile at that. Maybe I'm mistaken but I have a hunch he wanted thatdagger to find him. That was why he smiled."

  "I think you are entirely right, Mr. Hallock," said Dick. "I haven't anydoubt but that was why he smiled. He would smile just that way. Where--where is he?" Dick brushed his hands across his eyes as he asked thequestion. He had never felt so desolate, so utterly alone in his life.

  "They are bringing him here. Shall I stay? Can I help anyway?"

  Dick shook his head sadly.

  "Thank you. I don't think there is anything any one can do. I--I wishthere was."

  A little later Alan Massey's dead body lay in austere dignity in thehouse in which he had saved his cousin's life and given him back his nameand fortune together with the right to win the girl he himself had lovedso well. The smile was still on his face and a strange serenity ofexpression was there too. He slept well at last. He had lost himself ashe had proclaimed his intent to do and in losing had found himself. Onecould not look upon that calm white sculptured face without feeling that.Alan Massey had died a victor undaunted, a master of fate to the end.