A little later they sat down again side by side, holding hands.
As Hosack had told himself, and Gilbert had just said, things seemed to be coming to a head. At that moment Tootles was strung up to play her last card, Joan was being driven back by Harry from the cottage of "Mrs. Gray" and Martin, becalmed on the water, with an empty pipe between his teeth, was thinking about Joan.
Palgrave was comforted. The making of his confession was like having an abscess lanced. In his weakness, in his complete abandonment of affectation, he had never been so much of a man.
There was not to Alice, who had vision and sympathy, anything either strange or perverse in the fact that Gilbert had told his story and was not ashamed. Love had been and would remain the one big thing in her own life, the only thing that mattered, and so she could understand, even as she suffered, what this Great Emotion meant to Gilbert. She adopted his words in thinking it all over. They appealed to her as being exactly right.
She too was comforted, because she saw a chance that Gilbert, with the aid of the utmost tact and the most tender affection, might be drawn back to her and mended. She almost used Hosack"s caustic expression "rescued." The word came into her mind but was instantly discarded because it was obvious that Joan, however impishly she had played with Gilbert, was unaffected. Angry as it made her to know that any girl could see in Gilbert merely a man with whom to fool she was supremely thankful that the complication was not as tragic as it might have been.
So long as Joan held out, the ruin of her marriage was incomplete.
Hope, therefore, gleamed like a distant light. Gilbert had gone back to youth. It seemed to her that she had better treat him as though he were very young and hurt.
"Dearest," she said, "I"m going to take you away."
"Are you, Alice?"
"Yes. We will go on the yacht, and you shall read and sleep and get your strength back."
He gave a queer laugh. "You talk like a mother," he said, with a catch in his voice.
She went forward and kissed him pa.s.sionately.
"I love you like a mother as well as a wife, my man," she whispered.
"Never forget that."
"You"re,--you"re a good woman, Alice; I"m not worthy of you, my dear."
It pained her exquisitely to see him so humble.... Wait until she met Joan. She should be made to pay the price for this! "Who cares?" had been her cry. How many others had she made to care?
"I"ll go back to Mrs. Jekyll now," she went on, almost afraid that things were running too well to be true, "and stay at Southampton to-night. To-morrow I"ll return to New York and have everything packed and ready by the time you join me there. And I"ll send a telegram to Captain Stewart to expect us on Friday. Then we"ll go to sea and be alone and get refreshment from the wide s.p.a.ces and the clean air."
"Just as you say," he said, patting her hand. He was terribly like a boy who had slipped and fallen.
Then she got up, nearer to a breakdown than ever before. It was such a queer reversal of their old positions. And in order that he shouldn"t rise she put her hands on his shoulders and stood close to him so that his head was against her breast.
"G.o.d bless you, dearest boy," she said softly. "Trust in me. Give all your troubles to me. I"m your wife, and I need them. They belong to me.
They"re mine. I took them all over when you gave me my ring." She lifted his face that was worn as from a consuming fire and kissed his unresponsive lips. "Stay here," she added, "and I"ll go back. To-morrow then, in New York."
He echoed her. "To-morrow then, in New York," and held her hand against his forehead.
Just once she looked back, saw him bent double and stopped. A prophetic feeling that she was never to hear his voice again seized her in a cold grip,--but she shook it off and put a smile on her face with which to stand before the scandal-mongers.
And there stood Joan, looking as though she had seen a ghost.
XV
Alice marched up to her, blazing with anger and indignation. She was not, at that moment, the gentle Alice, as everybody called her, Alice-sit-by-the-fire, equable and pacific, believing the best of people. She was the mother-woman eager to revenge the hurt that had been done to one who had all her love.
"Ah," she said, "you"re just in time for me to tell you what I think of you."
"Whatever you may think of me," replied Joan, "is nothing to what I think of myself."
But Alice was not to be diverted by that characteristic way of evading hard words, as she thought it. She had seen Joan dodge the issues like that before, many times, at school. They were still screened from the veranda by a scrub-supported dune. She could let herself go.
"You"re a thief," she blurted out, trembling and out of all control for once. "Not a full-blown thief because you don"t steal to keep. But a kleptomaniac who can"t resist laying hands on other women"s men. You ought not to be allowed about loose. You"re a danger, a trap. You have no respect for yourself and none for friendship. Loyalty? You don"t know the meaning of the word. You"re not to be trusted out of sight. I despise you and never want to see you again."
Could this be Alice,--this little fury, white and tense, with clenched hands and glinting eyes, animal-like in her fierce protectiveness?
Joan looked at her in amazement. Hadn"t she already been hit hard enough? But before she could speak Alice was in breath again. "You can"t answer me back,--even you, clever as you are. You"ve nothing to say. That night at my house, when we had it out before, you said that you were not interested in Gilbert. If that wasn"t a cold-blooded lie what was it? Your interest has been so great that you"ve never let him alone since. You may not have called him deliberately, but when he came you flaunted your s.e.x in his face and teased him just to see him suffer. You were flattered, of course, and your vanity swelled to see him d.o.g.g.i.ng your heels. There"s a pretty expressive word for you and your type, and you know it as well as I do. Let me pa.s.s, please."
Joan moved off the narrow board-walk without a word.
And Alice pa.s.sed, but piqued by this unexpected silence, turned and went for her once most intimate friend again. If she was callous and still in her "Who Cares?" mood words should be said that could never be forgotten.
"I am Mrs. Gray. My husband won"t be back for several days," These were the only words that rang in Joan"s ears now. Alice might as well have been talking to a stone.
"Things are coming to a head," Alice went on, unconsciously using Gilbert"s expression and Hosack"s.
"And all the seeds that you"ve carelessly sown have grown into great rank weeds. Ask Mrs. Jekyll what you"ve driven Martin into doing if you"re curious to know. She can tell you. Many people have seen. But if you still don"t care, don"t trouble, because it"s too late. Go a few yards down there and look at that man bent double in the summer house.
If you do that and can still cry out "Who Cares?" go on to the hour when everything will combine to make you care. It can"t be far away."
"I"m Mrs. Gray. My husband won"t be back for several days." Like the song of death the refrain of that line rose above the sound of the sea and of Alice"s voice. Joan could listen to nothing else.
And Alice caught the wounded look in the eyes of the girl in whom she had once had faith and was recompensed. And having said all that she had had in her mind and more than she had meant to say, she turned on her heel, forced herself back into control and went smiling towards the group on the veranda. And there Joan remained standing looking as though she had seen a ghost,--the ghost of happiness.
"Mrs. Gray,--and her husband Martin.... But what have I got to say,--I, who refused to be his wife? It only seemed half true when I found them together before, although that was bad enough. But this time, now that my love for Martin has broken through all those days of pretending to pretend and that girl is openly in that cottage, nothing could be truer. It isn"t Martin who has taken off his armor. It"s I who have cut the straps and made it fall from his shoulders Oh, my G.o.d, if only I hadn"t wanted to finish being a kid."
She moved away, at last, from the place where Alice had left her and without looking to the right or left walked slowly down to the edge of the sea. Vaguely, as though it was something that had happened in a former life, she remembered the angry but neat figure of Alice and a few of the fierce words that had got through to her. "Rank weeds ...
driven Martin ... too late.... Who Cares?" Only these had stuck. But why should Alice have said them? It was all unnecessary. She knew them.
She had said them all on the way back from Devon, all and many more, seated beside that nice boy, Harry, in his car.... She had died a few feet from the stoop of the cottage, in the scent of honeysuckle and Come back to something that wasn"t life to be tortured with regrets.
All the way back she had said things to herself that Alice, angry and bitter as she had seemed to be, never could have invented. But they too were unnecessary. Saying things now was of no more use than throwing stones into the sea at any time. Rank weeds ... driven Martin ... too late ... who cares--only who cares should have come first because everything else was the result.
And for a little while, with the feeling that she was on an island, deserted and forgotten, she stood on the edge of the sea, looking at a horizon that was utterly blank. What was she to do? Where was she to go? ... Not yet a woman, and all the future lay about her in chaos....
Once more she went back in spirit to that room of Martin"s which had been made the very sanctum of Romance by young blood and moonlight and listened to the plans they had made together for the discovery of a world out of which so many similar explorers had crept with wounds and bitterness.
"I"m going to make my mark," she heard Martin cry. "I"m going to make something that will last. My father"s name was Martin Gray, and I"ll make it mean something out here for his sake."
"And I," she heard herself say, "will go joy-riding on that huge Round-about. I"ve seen what it is to be old and useless, and so I shall make the most of every day and hour while I"m young. I can live only once, and I shall make life spin whichever way I want it to go. If I can get anybody to pay my whack, good. If not, I"ll pay it myself,--whatever it costs. My motto"s going to be a good time as long as I can get it and who cares for the price!"
Young fool, you young fool!
The boy followed her to the window, and the moonlight fell upon them both.
"Yes, you"ll get a bill all right. How did you know that?"
And once more she heard her answer. "I haven"t lived with all those old people so long for nothing. But you won"t catch me grumbling if I get half as much as I"m going out for. Listen to my creed, Martin, and take notes if you want to keep up with me.... I shall open the door of every known Blue Room, hurrying out if there are ugly things inside. I shall taste a little of every known bottle, feel everything there is to feel except the thing that hurts, laugh with everybody whose laugh is catching, do everything there is to do, go into every booth in the big Bazaar, and when I"m tired and there"s nothing left, slip out of the endless procession with a thousand things stored in my memory. Isn"t that the way to live?"