“Oh, of course!” Linwood’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “Undoubtedly! So she would have the pleasure of running to me every Saturday to get enough to buy pork chops.”
“Linwood, you’re a depraved cynic.”
“Canby, you’re a doting driveler.”
With that exchange of courtesies they left the topic and drifted back to the stock market. But Canby had in reality been impressed, as we always are by any argument that fits in with our desire. He reflected that Linwood had a good understanding of the world and the life that was lived in it, and that his judgment was probably sensible, as it was certainly to his liking.
After all, not to flatter himself, he was a decent sort of fellow; there was no assurance that Nella would do better, and she might conceivably do worse. The memory of her in his arms came to him, as it had many times before, and he felt his blood grow warm at the recollection of that incomparably blissful moment. The sense of the sanctity and innocence of her youth was still strong within him, however, and colored his thoughts; what he feared was to take advantage of her ignorance and purity, and he asked himself how she could possibly be expected to make a decision for herself when the real question was of necessity hidden from her. And possibly it was already too late. Was her heart still her own to give? Folly, idiotic folly, to have deliberately placed before her the fascination of Tom Linwood’s youthful graces!
Most of these reflections came to him as he wandered alone in the garden, having left Linwood to take the dogs back to their kennels; and the fear of young Linwood’s rivalry was immediately suggested by the sound of the returning Binot racer on the driveway.
Canby sat on the bench in a secluded corner of the garden and dug about in his brain for a decision. Surely he had given youth a fair chance and an able representative. If the joy of having her was still possible, why not seize it?
Linwood’s words recurred to him. Yes, passion is a fleeting thing anyway, and when that was over the best of her would be left to him, and he would guard—
The current of his thoughts was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching along the garden path. He glanced out from his dark retreat; it was Nella and young Linwood. They approached slowly, without speaking, and Canby merely kept silent till they should pass; but, instead, they halted on the opposite side of the bush under which his bench was placed, not ten feet away. Too late he realized his position.
Young Linwood’s voice came:
“But, Nella, you have no feeling for me whatever?”
Then a little gay laugh from her:
“Of course! Didn’t I say I was awfully fond of you?”
“Oh, fond be hanged!” The representative of youth was evidently ready to explode with impatience. “It’s your love I want, Nella. Good Lord, how I hate that word fond! You’ve got to love me!” His breath caught and he went on: “I didn’t suppose anyone in the world could be so lovely, so adorable, as you. I tell you, I can’t live without you. Nella, look at me!”
Canby was trying to find a means of escape, but none offered. In the rear was an impenetrable hedge; on either side he was sure to be seen. He had stayed too long, and now must stay longer.
The rustle of a quick movement came from the other side of the bush, and the young man’s voice:
“Nella! There, I can’t help it! Oh, I’ve wanted so to hold you in my arms — like this. Ah!” There was the sound of a kiss. “No — please, Nella! I love you, I worship you, I adore you! See, I don’t hurt you, do I?”
“No-o. No, you don’t hurt me, Mr. Linwood, but—”
“Ah, let me! Nella, you don’t know what you mean to me! I never thought — You’ve just bowled me over! Dearest, let me!”
More kisses. Canby groaned inwardly. To be out of this!
Nella’s voice came:
“Mr. Linwood, let me go — please.”
“No, I can’t! I won’t! You must promise me, Nella. Say you love me. I’ve begged you long enough.”
“Mr. Linwood... please! Mr. Canby wouldn’t like it.”
“To the devil with Canby! I want you, Nella, you don’t know how I want you. You’re a sorceress, a witch; you set me crazy! You’ve got to promise me; you’ve got to. I tell you I can’t think of anything, of anyone but you. On the train, all day long at the office — everywhere I think of nothing but you. I can’t even sleep — I swear I can’t! But I don’t need to tell you that; you know how I love you. Nella, please — tell me— No! Tell me—”
There was the sound of rustling garments, the scuffling feet on gravel, a little suppressed cry, and then rapid retreating footsteps; and Canby, peering round the corner of the bush, saw Nella’s form dimly disappearing down the path in the starlight. She had flown to the house.
Then from the other side of the bush sounded the footsteps of the man she had left. But not along the path; they approached instead on the grass. Was the young idiot actually coming to this very bench?
He was indeed. On the instant, his form appeared from behind the bush and he sat down on the opposite end of the bench without becoming aware of the other’s presence; he thrust his hands deep in his pockets, crossed his legs in front of him, and let his chin fall on his chest.
“Well, I’m dashed good!” came his voice.
Canby felt that the situation had reached its limit.
“Hello!” he said abruptly. His voice sounded queer.
Young Linwood jumped up as though there had been a pin under him.
“What the devil!” he exclaimed, wheeling.
“It’s I... Canby,” returned the other, retaining his grammar in spite of everything.
“Oh!” The young man caught sight of him. He stood for a moment in silent bewilderment. “But what are you doing? How do you happen—”
Canby explained. “I was here when you came up. I thought you’d go on by. You began to talk at once, and there was no escape. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that’s all right.” Young Linwood looked at him a moment, then sat down again. “Couldn’t be helped; not your fault. It happens often, especially in novels. Doesn’t bother me any; I don’t give a hang if the whole world knows I love her.”
Canby was silent.
“You know, I do love her,” the young man resumed presently. “By Jove, I do; with all my heart. “You heard what I said. Well, every word of it is true. And she won’t give me any satisfaction. Most amazing girl I ever saw. She tantalizes me and sets me crazy. I can’t understand it. For two days, you remember, I didn’t come up here; I was trying to forget her. Duff Lewis and I took two girls down to Long Beach and, Lord, but I was sick of ’em! Couldn’t get my mind off of her one minute. I tell you, Canby, I’m hit hard.”
It was the first time he had ever called him “Canby” without the “Mister.” He had reached the estate of man!
“It’s her confounded stubbornness,” the young lover resumed presently, changing his tune a little. “She loves me — I know she does, only she won’t admit it. It’s enough to worry a man to death; because, of course, I’m not absolutely sure.”
He stopped suddenly and looked at Canby as though a new idea had just entered his head.
“By the way, I suppose I ought to consult you, sir; you’re her guardian. Have you any objections?”
“Objections to what?”
“To my marrying Miss Somi.”
“Why—” Canby hesitated. “Have you asked her?”
“Only about ten thousand times.”
“What does she say?”
“She says — she says — I don’t know what the devil she does say! I’ll swear I don’t know, sir. Confound it all, that’s what I’m beefing about! I can’t get her to say anything.”