"But do women ever live up to his ideal of them?"
"It isn"t his fault if they don"t. All he can do is to point it out to them earnestly and without ceasing."
They had reached the rectory gate, where she hesitated an instant with her hand on the latch, and her head bent toward the house in a surprised and listening att.i.tude. "I declare, Orlando, if I didn"t go off and leave that cat locked up in the parlour!" she exclaimed in horror as she hurried away.
"Yes," observed Mr. Mullen in his tenderest and most ministerial manner, "my ideal is a high one, and when I look into your face, I see reflected all the virtues I would have you reach. I see you the perfect woman, sharing my sorrows, easing my afflictions---"
Intoxicated by his imagination, he turned toward her as though he beheld the living embodiment of his eloquence.
For a minute Molly smiled up at him; then, "I wonder if your mother really locked the cat in the parlour," she rejoined demurely.
After the birthday dinner, at which Mrs. Mullen talked ceaselessly of Orlando"s excellencies, while she reserved the choicest piece of meat and the fattest dumpling for his plate, Molly tied her cherry-coloured strings under her chin, and started home, with a basket of apple tarts for Reuben on her arm. At the crossroads Mr. Mullen left her to return to an afternoon Sunday school, and she was about to stop at the ordinary to ask William to see her safely over the pasture, when Abel Revercomb, looking a trifle awkward in his Sunday clothes, came out of the house and held out his hand for the basket.
"I thought you"d be coming home this way after dinner," he said, turning his throat when he moved. His hair was brushed flat on his head as was his habit on Sundays, and he wore a vivid purple tie, which he had bought on his last journey to Applegate. He had never looked worse, nor had he ever felt quite so confident of the entire correctness of his appearance.
As Molly made no reply, but merely fell into step at his side, he inquired, after a moment"s pause, "How did you enjoy the sermon?"
"Oh, I don"t like to be preached at, and I"m sorry for Mr. Mullen"s wife if he expects her to ease everybody"s pains in the parish. He looked very handsome in church," she added, "didn"t you think so?"
"I didn"t notice," he answered ruefully. "I never pay any attention to the way a man looks, in church or out of it."
"Well, I do--and even Judy Hatch does. She asked me the other day whom I thought the handsomest man in the neighbourhood, and I"m sure she expected me to say Mr. Mullen."
She dimpled, and his arm went out impulsively toward her.
"But you didn"t, Molly?" he returned.
"Why, of course not--did you imagine that I should? I said I thought Mr.
Jonathan Gay was the best looking."
His arm fell to his side, and for a minute or two he walked on in silence.
"I wish I didn"t love you, Molly," he burst out at last. "I sometimes almost believe that you"re one of the temptresses Mr. Mullen preached against this morning. I"ve tried again and again to tear you out of my heart, but it is useless."
"Yes, it"s useless, Abel," she answered, melting to dimples.
"I tell myself," he went on pa.s.sionately, "that you"re not worth it--that you"re perfectly heartless--that you"re only a flirt--that other men have held your hands, kissed your lips even---"
"And after telling yourself those dreadful truths, what happens?" she inquired with interest.
"What happens? Well, I go to work and don"t think of you for at least three hours. Then, when I am dead tired I stop for a minute to rest, and as soon as my eyes fall on a bit of green gra.s.s, or a flower growing by the road, or the blue sky, there you are again, popping in between them with your big eyes and your mouth that was made for kisses. I forget how heartless and light you are, and remember only the times you"ve crept up to me and put your hand on my arm and said, "Abel, I"m sorry." Most of all I remember the one time you kissed me, Molly."
"Don"t, Abel," she said quickly, and her voice broke and died in her throat.
As he drew close to her, she walked faster until her steps changed into a run.
"If you only knew me as I am, you wouldn"t care so, Abel," she threw back at him.
"I don"t believe you know yourself as you are, Molly," he answered.
"It"s not you that leads men on to make love to you and then throws them over--as you have thrown me--as you will throw Mr. Mullen." His tone grew suddenly stern. "You don"t love Mr. Mullen, and you know it," he added. "If you love any man on earth to-day, you love me."
At his first change from tenderness to accusation, her face hardened and her voice returned to her control.
"What right have you to judge me, Abel Revercomb?" she asked angrily.
"I"ve had one sermon preached at me to-day, and I"ll not listen to another."
"You know I"m not preaching at you, Molly, but I"m a man of flesh and blood, not of straw. How can I have patience?"
"I never asked you to have patience, did I?"
"No, and I don"t believe you want it. If I"d catch hold of you and shake you, you"d probably like me better."
"It"s just as well that you don"t try it to see how I"ll take it."
"Oh, I shan"t try it. I"ll go on still believing in you against yourself, like the born fool I am."
"You may believe in me or not just as you please--but it isn"t my fault if you won"t go off and marry Judy Hatch, as I have begged you to.
She"s everything on earth that Mr. Mullen preached about to-day in his sermon."
"Hang Judy Hatch! You are bent on starting a quarrel with me, that is the trouble. As soon as you mentioned Jonathan Gay I knew what you were in for."
"As if I couldn"t say a man was good looking without putting you into a rage."
"I"m not in a rage, but I hate a flirt. Every sensible man does."
"Judy Hatch isn"t a flirt."
"Leave Judy Hatch out of it--though I"ve more than half a mind to walk off and ask her to marry me."
"That"s just what I"ve advised you to do for the last six months, isn"t it?"
"Ah, no, you haven"t, Molly, no, you haven"t--and you"d be just as sorry as I the minute after I had done it. You"ve got some small foolish childish notions in your head about hating men--but you"re much nearer loving me than hating me at this moment, and that"s why you"re afraid!"
"I"m not afraid--how dare you say so?"
"Oh, my pretty, how foolish we are, both of us! I"d work my fingers to the bone for you, Molly, I"d lie down and let your little feet walk over me if they wanted to--I"d shed my life"s blood for you, day by day, if it could help you."
"Every one of you say this in the beginning, but it isn"t true in the end," she answered.
"Not true--not true? Prove it. Why do you think I"ve struggled and raised myself except to keep equal with you? Why did I go to school and teach myself and make money enough to take cla.s.ses in Applegate? Just for you. All those winter afternoons when I drove over there to learn things, I was thinking of you. Do you remember that when you were at school in Applegate, you"d tell me the names of the books you read so that I might get them?"
"Don"t," she cried fiercely, "don"t tell me those things, for I"ll never believe them! I"m hard and bitter inside, there"s no softness in me. If I went on my knees and prayed to love, I couldn"t do it. Oh, Abel, there isn"t any love in my heart!"
"Do you remember when you kissed me?"
"No, I have forgotten."
"It was only three weeks ago."