The Splendid Outcast

  *CHAPTER VI*

  *YOUTH TRIUMPHANT*

  But weariness and anxiety had to pay tribute at last and he slept. Itwas broad daylight when he awoke to the sound of a loud hammering uponthe door and a high, clear, humorous voice calling his name.

  "Lazy bones! Get up! Will you be lying abed all day?"

  "A--all right----"

  He opened his eyes with an effort and glanced at his wrist watch----Eight o'clock.

  "Coffee in the studio, Harry dear, in ten minutes."

  "Oh! All right----"

  The hammering stopped, foot-steps retreated and Jim Horton tumbled out,rubbing his eyes and gazing at the golden lozenges of light upon thewall. It was a most inspiriting _reveille_, arresting as the shrillclarion of camp on a frosty morning; but sweeter far, joyous withpromise of the new day. It was only during the progress of his hastytoilet that the douche of cold water over his head and face recalled tohim with unpleasant suddenness and distinctness the events of the nightbefore, and he emerged from vigorous rubbing exhilarated but sober.There was a lot of thinking to be done and a difficult resolution tomake, and with Moira at his elbow it wasn't going to be easy. But bythe time he knocked at the door of the studio, the pleasure of theimmediate prospect made ready his good cheer for the morning greeting.He heard her voice calling and entered. A new fire blazed on thehearth, and an odor of coffee filled the air. She emerged from the doorof the small kitchen, a coffee-pot and a heaping plateful of _brioches_in her hands.

  "Good morning! I've been waiting for you an hour or more. You've beendeveloping amazing bad habits in the hospital."

  "Why didn't you call me before?"

  "Sure and I believed you might be thinking I was anxious to see you."

  "And aren't you?"

  "And do you think I'd be telling--even if I was?"

  "You might."

  "And I won't. Will you have your coffee with cream and sugar?"

  "If you please."

  It was real cream and real sugar--some magic of Madame Toupin's, sheexplained, and the _brioches_ were unsurpassed. And so they sat andate, Moira chattering gayly of plans for the day, while the ancientdowager upon the easel who had braved the Fokkers and the long-rangecannon looked down upon them benignly and with a little touch of pity,too, as though she knew how much of their courage was to be required ofthem.

  Horton ate silently, putting in a word here and there, content to listento her plans, to watch the deft motions of her fingers and the changingexpressions upon her face. Once or twice he caught her looking at himwith a puzzled line at her brows, but he let his glance pass and spokeof casual things, the location of the bank where he must get his money,the excellence of the coffee, the kindness of Nurse Newberry, aware thatthese topics were not the ones uppermost in his mind, or in hers.

  "You're a bit subdued this morning, Harry dear," she said at last,whimsically. "Maybe that goose was too much for you."

  "Subdued!" he laughed.

  "You have all the air of a man with something on his conscience. Youused to wear that look in America, and I let you be. But somehow thingsseemed different with us two. Would you be willing to tell me?"

  "There isn't a thing--except--except your kindness. I don't deservethat, you know."

  She looked at him seriously and then broke into laughter.

  "Would it make you feel more comfortable if I laid you over theshoulders with a mahl stick?"

  "I think it would," he grinned.

  "Sure and that is one of the few pleasant prerogatives of matrimony--inIreland."

  "And elsewhere----" added Horton.

  "But I do want to know if anything's troubling you. Are you stillworried----" she took a _brioche_ and smiled at it amiably, "becausewe're not appropriately chaperoned?"

  "No--not so much. I see you're quite able to look out for yourself."

  "And you derive some comfort from the fact?" she asked.

  He looked at her, their eyes met and they both burst into laughter.

  "Moira--you witch! But you'd better not tempt me too far."

  "Sure and I'm not afraid of you, alanah," she said, sedate again andvery cool, "or of any man," and then, mischievously, "But your doubtsneedn't have kept you from kissing me a good morning."

  "It's not too late now," said Horton, abruptly rising and spilling hiscoffee. He passed the small table toward her but she held him off witha hand.

  "No. The essence is gone. You'll please pick up your coffee-cup andpass the butter. Thanks. It's very nice butter, isn't it?"

  "Excellent," he said gloomily.

  "And now you're vexed. Is there no pleasing a man?"

  "If you'd only stop pleasing--you'd make it easier for me to see away----"

  She was all attention at once, listening. But he paused and set hiscoffee-cup down with an air of finality.

  "Stop pleasing! Sure and you must not ask the impossible," she said,her mouth full.

  But he wouldn't smile and only glowered into the fire. "I want you tolet me try to pay you what I owe you--to earn your respect andaffection----"

  "Well, I'm letting you," she smiled over her coffee-cup.

  "I--I've gotten you under false pretenses--under the spell of a--atemporary emotion--a sense of duty," he rambled, saying partly whatHarry might say and partly what was in his own heart. "I want to winthe right to you, to show you that--that I'm not as rotten as you usedto think me----" He didn't know how far the thought was leading and infear of it, rose and walked away, suddenly silent.

  "Well," he heard her saying, "I don't think you are."

  Was she laughing at him? He turned toward her again but the back of herdark head was very demure. He approached quite close, near enough totouch her, but she held the coffee-cup to her lips, and then when shehad drunk, sprang up and away.

  "What's the use of thinking about the past or the future, alanah, whenwe have the present--with a gorgeous morning and happy Paris just at ourelbows. _Allons_! You shall wash the coffee-cups and the pot while Iput on my hat, for there's nothing like sticking something into a man'shands to keep them out of mischief. And then we'll be wandering forth,you and I, into the realms of delight."

  He was glad at the thought of going out into the air, away from thestudio, for here within four walls she was too close to him, theirseclusion too intimate. If he only were Harry! He would have taken hertantalizing moods as a husband might and conquered her by strength andtenderness. But as it was, all he could feel beside tenderness was pityfor her innocence and helplessness, and contempt and not a little pityfor himself.

  But the air of out-of-doors was to restore him to sanity. It was one ofthose late November days of sunshine, warm and hazy, when outer wrapsare superfluous, and arm in arm, like two good comrades, and as thecustom was in the _Quartier_, they sauntered forth, in the direction sheindicated. There were to be no vehicles for them, she insisted, for_fiacres_ cost much and money was scarce. Life seemed to be coursingvery strongly through her veins, and the more he felt the contagion ofher youth and joy, the more trying became the task he had set himself.But sober though he was, within, he could not resist the spell of herenthusiasms and he put the evil hour from him. This day at least shouldbe hers as nearly as he could make it, without a flaw. They turned downthe Boul' Miche' and into the Boulevard St. Germain, past the Beaux Artswhich she wished to show him, then over the Pont des Arts to the RightBank. They stopped on the quai for a moment to gaze down toward thetowers of Notre Dame, while Moira painted for him the glories that wereFrance. He had lived a busy life and had had little time for theromances of great nations, but he remembered what he had read and,through Moira's clear intelligence, the epic filtered, tinctured withits color and idealism.

  THROUGH MOIRA'S CLEAR INTELLIGENCE THE EPIC FILTERED]

  Then under the arches of the Louvre to the Avenue de l'Opera, and towardthe banking district. All Paris smiled. The blue and brown mingledfraterna
lly and the streets were crowded. Except for the uniforms,which were seen everywhere, it was difficult to believe that hardly amonth ago the most terrible war in history had been fought, almost atthe city's gates.

  When he reached his bank, which was in the Boulevard des Italiens, nearthe _Opera_, Jim Horton had to move with caution. But Moira fortunatelyhad some shopping to do and in her absence he contrived to get somechecks, and going into the Grand Hotel drew a check signed with his ownname, and payable to Henry G. Horton, and this he presented for payment.There was some delay and a few questions, for the amount waslarge--three thousand francs--but he showed the letters from Moira andQuinlevin. It was with a sigh of relief that he went out and met Moiranear the _Opera_. With a grin he caught her by the arm, exhibiting alarge packet of bank-notes, and led the way down the avenue by whichthey had come.

  "And where now, Harry dear?"

  "I'm hungry. To the most expensive restaurant in Paris for _dejeuner_.If I'm not mistaken we passed it just here."

  "But you must not--I won't permit----"

  He only grinned and led her inside.

  "For to-day at least, Moira, we shall live."

  "But to see Paris, _en Anglais_, that is not to live----"

  "We shall see."

  The tempting meal that he ordered with her assistance, did much tomollify her prudence and frugality and they breakfasted in state on thebest that the market provided.

  Afternoon found them back in the Boulevard St. Germain again, after aneventful interim which Jim Horton had filled, above her protests, in adrive through the _Bois_ and a visit, much less expensive, to a _cinema_show, during which she held his hand. And now a little weary of all theworld, but happy in each other, they drifted like the flotsam of alllovers of the _Rive Gauche_ toward the Gardens of the Luxembourg. Theysat side by side on the balustrade overlooking the esplanade and lawn infront of the Palace, watching the passers-by, always paired, _piou-piou_and milliner, workman and _bonne_, _flaneur_ and _grisette_, for thewarm weather had brought them out. There was no military band playing,but they needed no music in their hearts, which were already beating intime to the most exquisite of interludes. Twilight was falling, theParis dusk, full of mystery and elusive charm; lights beyond the treesflickered into being, and the roar of the city beyond theirbreathing-spot diminished into a low murmur. For a while theirconversation had relapsed into short sentences and monosyllables, asthough the gayety of their talk was no longer sufficient to concealtheir thoughts, which, throwing off subterfuge, spoke in the silences.At last Moira shivered slightly and rose.

  "Come," she said gently, "we must be going," and led the way toward theexit from the Gardens on the Boulevard St. Michel. Horton followedsilently--heavily, for the end of his perfect day was drawing near andwith it the duty which was to bring disillusionment and distress toMoira and ostracism and hell to him.

  But when they reached the studio Moira set with alacrity at puttingthings to rights and preparing the evening meal.

  "We shall be having cold goose and a bit of salad, you extravagantperson," she said. "I feel as though I had no right to be eating againfor a week."

  And so they dined upon the remains of their feast, but warmed by thecheerful blaze, both conscious of the imminent hour of seclusion andaffinity. Moira had little to say and in the silences Jim caught hergaze upon him once or twice as though in inquiry or incomprehension, andwondered whether in their long day together, he had said or doneanything which might have led her to suspect the truth. But he had beencautious, following her leads in conversation, and playing hisdiscreditable role with rather creditable skill. The end was near. Hewould see Harry to-night at Javet's and to-morrow he would tell her, butit was like the thought of death to him--after to-day--and he failed tohide from her the traces of his misery.

  "I wish that you would tell me what worries you," she said gently, aftera long silence.

  He started forward in his chair by the fire. "Er--nothing," hestammered, "there's nothing."

  "Yes, there is," she said, evenly. "I know. I've felt it all day--evenwhen you seemed most happy." And then quickly, "Is it me that you'reworrying about?"

  "About you?" he asked to gain time, and then, grasping at the straw shethrew him, "about--you--yes--Moira," he said quietly.

  It was the first definite return to the topic of the morning, which theyhad both banished as though by an understanding. But Moira waspersistent.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Because--because I don't deserve--all this--from you."

  She smiled softly from her chair nearby.

  "Don't you think I'm the best judge of that?"

  "No," he said miserably. "No."

  "You can't deny a woman the faith of her intuitions."

  "And if I proved your intuitions false----"

  "Sure and I'd never speak to you again," she put in quaintly.

  "It might be better if you didn't," he muttered, half aloud.

  She heard him, or seemed to, for she turned quickly and laid her handover his.

  "Don't be spoiling our day, dear," she said earnestly. "God has beengood in bringing you back to me. Whatever happens I won't be regrettingit."

  His fingers caught and pressed hers and then quickly relinquished themas he rose, struggling for his composure.

  "You _will_ regret it," he said fiercely. "I tell you you can't thankGod for me, because I'm not what you want to think me. I'm what theHarry you knew in America was, only worse--a liar, a cheat----"

  He paused as she rose, saving himself the revelation on the tip of histongue by the sight of her face in the firelight as she turned. It wastransfigured by her new faith in him, and in her joy in the possession.She came to him quickly, and put her soft fingers over his lips, whilethe other arm went around his shoulders.

  "Hush, alanah," she said.

  "No--you mustn't, Moira," he muttered, taking her hands down andclasping them both in his. "You mustn't." And then, at the look ofdisappointment that came into her eyes, caught both her hands to hislips and covered them with kisses. Against the sweet allure of her hestruggled, sure that never mortal man had been so tried before, butsurer still that the love he bore for her was greater than alltemptation.

  She looked at him, flushed at the warmth of this formal caress, whichleft no doubt of him, but marveling at his renunciation of her lips,which had been so near.

  "I can't be listening when you call yourself such names."

  "You don't understand--and I can't tell you--anything more just now. Ihaven't--the will."

  He noted the look of alarm which was a token of the suffering he mustcause her and he led her to his chair and made her sit.

  "I can't make you unhappy--not to-night. I--I'm sorry you read mythoughts. I shouldn't have let you see."

  He had turned to the fire and leaned against the chimney piece. Andafter a moment, clear and very tender, he heard her voice.

  "You must tell me everything, alanah. I've got the right to it now."

  He shook his head in silent misery.

  "But you must."

  "No. I can't."

  "Yes. You see, things are different with us two. You've made me knowto-day how different. Last night I called to your mind the mockery we'dbeen through, calling it marriage. But it _was_ a marriage, and thedear God has willed that my heart should beat for you as gently as thatof any mother for its babe. It softened in the hospital, dear, when Isaw you lying there so pale and weak against the pillows, and I knewthat if God spared you for me I would make amends----"

  "_You_--make amends----" he gasped.

  "By giving you all that I had of faith, hope and charity. Whatever youwere, whatever you are, dear, you're mine, for better or for worse, andI believe in you. And your troubles, whatever they are--I'll take myhalf of them."

  "You can't----" he groaned.

  "Not if they concern me," she continued simply, "for they're minealready."

  He took a pace or two away from her.
r />   "You mustn't speak to me like this."

  "And why not? You're mine to speak to as I please. Is it that you don'tlove me enough, alanah?"

  He knew that she wouldn't have asked that question, if she hadn'talready seen the answer in his eyes.

  "Love you----?" he began, his eyes shining like stars. And thensuddenly, as though their very glow had burned them out, they turnedaway, dull and lusterless. She watched him anxiously for a moment andthen rose and faced him.

  "Well----" she said softly, "I'm waiting for your answer."

  "I--I can't give you an answer," he said in a colorless voice.

  "Then I'll be giving the answer for you, my dear, for I'm not withouteyes in my head. I know you love me and I've been knowing it for manydays. And it's the kind of love that a woman wants, the love that givesand asks nothing." She paused, breathing with difficulty, the warmcolor rising to her temples, and then went on gently, proudly, as thoughin joy of her confession. "And I--it is the same with me. I've tried tomake you understand.... It is not for you to give only...." She haltedin her speech a moment and then came close to him, her clear gazeseeking his. "I love you, not for what you have suffered, dear----" shewhispered, "but for what you are to me--not because you are my husband,but because you are _you_--the only one in all the world for me."

  "Moira," he whispered, tensely, as his arms went about her. "Godforgive me--I worship you."

  "God will forgive you that, alanah," he heard her say happily, "since Ido."

  He touched his lips to her brow tenderly ... then her lips.

  "You love me," he muttered. "_Me_? You're sure that it's _me_ that youlove?"

  Her eyes opened, startled at his tone.

  "If it isn't you that I love, then I'm sure that I can't be loving anyone at all."

  "And you'll believe in me--whatever happens?"

  "I will----" she repeated proudly. "Whatever happens--since _this_ hashappened to us both."

  "Some day--you'll know," he muttered painfully, "that I--I'm not what Iseem to be. And then I want you to remember this hour, this moment,Moira, as it is to me.... I want you to remember how you came into myarms when I hadn't the strength to repel you, remember the touch of mylips in tenderness--and in reverence--Moira ... that love was too strongfor me ... for it has made me false to myself ... false to you...."

  She drew away from him a little, deeply perturbed. "You frighten me,alanah."

  "I--I don't want to. To-morrow----" he paused, searching for strengthto speak. But it did not come.

  "To-morrow. What do you mean?"

  The repetition of the word seemed like a confirmation of his resolutionand shocked him into action. Quietly he took her hands down from hisshoulders, kissed them in farewell, and turned away.

  "What do you mean?" she repeated.

  "That--that to-morrow--you shall judge me."

  The tense expression of her anxiety relaxed and she smiled.

  "You needn't fear what that will be."

  He did not reply but stood staring fixedly into the fire. She camearound to him and laid her fingers over his. "Why should we botherabout to-morrow, dear? To-day was yesterday's to-morrow and see what'shappened to us."

  "But it shouldn't have happened," he groaned, "it shouldn't havehappened."

  "Then why should I thank God for it----?"

  "Don't----"

  "Yes. Everything will be right. A woman knows of these things."

  He smiled at her tenderly, but he didn't attempt to take her in hisarms.

  "Come," she said, "let us sit down by the fire near the blaze, and wewill not speak of to-morrow--just of to-day and yesterday and the daybefore, when you and I were learning this wonderful thing."

  But he did not dare.

  "Moira, I--I've got to go out for awhile--a matter of duty----"

  "Now?" she faltered.

  "I must. An engagement. I'm in honor bound----"

  Now really alarmed, she caught him by the elbows and looked into hiseyes.

  "An engagement--to-night! And to-morrow----?"

  His meaning seemed to come to her with a rush.

  "Harry----! This engagement to-night has something to do with us--withme. To-morrow----! What is it, Harry? Speak!"

  "I can't. I've promised."

  "I won't let you go, Harry. It is something that has come betweenus----"

  "It has always been--between us----" he muttered.

  She clung to him and held him as he moved toward the door.

  "Nothing--nothing shall come between us. Nothing can. I don't carewhat it is. 'Until death us do part'--Don't you understand what thatmeans, Harry?"

  The repetition of his brother's name, the phrase from the marriageservice, gave him resolution to avert his face from the piteous pleadingin her eyes.

  "It is because I understand what it means that I have--the courage togo--now--before you despise me."

  "I have said that nothing makes any difference. I swear it. I loveyou, dear. There's some mistake. You'll never be different in my eyes,whatever happens--whatever has happened."

  "Good-bye, Moira," he whispered, his hands clasping her arms.

  "No, no. Not now--not to-night. I knew that to-day was too beautifulto last. You--you've frightened me. Don't go--_please_ don't go."

  "Yes," he said firmly. "I must."

  But she was strong, and greater than her strength was her tenderness.

  "Look me in the eyes, dear, while I'm pleading with you. If your lovewere as great a thing as mine----"

  To look in her eyes, he knew, was fatal. One brief struggle and then hecaught her in his arms and held her close for a long moment, while hewhispered in broken sentences.

  "My love! ... if you hadn't said that! You've _got_ to know what mylove means ... sacrifice.... This moment ... is mine.... Remember it,dear--as it is ... its terrible sweetness--its sanctity--remember that,too ... because that's the essence of it ... sanctity. God bless you,Moira--whatever happens----"

  "Whatever happens?"

  As in a daze he straightened and looked around. Then almost roughlybroke away from her and rushed to the door, taking up his cap andovercoat on the way.

  "Harry----!"

  "Good-bye," he called hoarsely as he opened the door and went out.

  She rushed after him but he was already running furiously down thestairs into the dark.

  "Harry," she called, "Harry--come back!"

  But the name of his brother made him rush on the more blindly, theechoes following him down into the court and past the open gate ofMadame Toupin. He hadn't any definite idea of what he was going to do.The only thing that he was sure of was that he must getaway--anywhere--away from Moira ... from the reproach of her innocenteyes, of her confessions, of her tributes of submission and surrender.On he plunged blindly down the street toward the Luxembourg Gardens,into the outer darkness where he must lose himself away fromher--to-night, to-morrow,--for all time.

  He had failed. He had trusted himself too far--trusted her too far.Fool that he was not to have seen that love, begun by trivialhappenings, had been gathering strength and momentum and like anavalanche had swept down and engulfed them both. In a moment ofreaction, of guilty triumph, he rejoiced, defiant of the conscience thatdrove him forth, that it was him that she loved--not Harry; his lipsthat had taken tribute--his ears that had received her confessions,meant for them alone.

  But reason returned after awhile ... and with it the sense of hisdishonor. The thing was over, definitely. There would be scorn enoughin her eyes for him to-morrow, when he told her all the truth. Hecomforted himself with that thought and yet it brought him a pang too,for he knew that it was Moira who was to suffer most.

  He seemed to be the only person in the gardens, for the night was chilland a thin mist of rain was falling. From time to time there werefootsteps here and there, and the murmur of voices, and through theturmoil of his thoughts he was conscious of them vaguely. But theymeant nothing to him. He
went on into the darkness, his head bowed, inthe conflict of his happiness and his remorse, reaching a dimly lightedspot near the Rue d'Assas, when he heard quick footsteps behind him. Heturned just in time to dodge the blow of a stick aimed at his head,which fell heavily on his shoulder. He struck out but another mancaught him around the waist, bearing him to the ground. He struggled toone knee, striking viciously, but they were too many for him. He got aglimpse of an automatic pistol which flashed before his eyes and thensomething heavy struck him on the head. The last thing he noted beforelosing consciousness was the pale face of the man with the automatic.It was his brother--Harry.