XXVIII
The torpor of summer was in the air, but it did not affect Jim’s industry. Coming into the office from a luncheon he had scarcely tasted, he removed his coat, and settled himself for a hard afternoon’s work. The windows were raised but not a breath came to stir the papers on his desk. The murmur of the street sounded as remote as the echo of the ocean in a shell.
The door opened and Lucy came in. Jim glanced up, startled, but did not speak.
“I want to talk to you, Jim,” Lucy said without preamble. Her face was set.
“Sit down,” he replied, looking at her keenly. The pencil in his hand trembled.
“I couldn’t say anything last night, Jim. I am in the greatest trouble of my life.” She picked up a paper weight and examined it as she spoke.
“I know, Lucy,” he said, laying down his pencil.
She shivered as though chilled by the warm summer atmosphere. Her forced calmness forsook her suddenly.
“Oh, Jim!” she sobbed, and leaning forward on the desk, hid her face in her arms.
He reached out his hand to take hers, then withdrew it, and, picking up the pencil again, began tapping the desk with it.
“What shall I do, Jim?” Lucy lifted her head. She had command of herself now.
Jim went on tapping the desk until Lucy reached over and took the pencil from him and laid it down.
“Your mother must go away,” he declared at last.
“But where can she go? She has no money. Cousin Minnie doesn’t want her. She has no other relations, and besides, John won’t hear of her going.”
“She must go anyway,” he repeated.
“I can’t put her in the street. Oh, Jim, I don’t know what to do! She’s changed John so he’s not himself any more. Everything she does is perfect in his eyes. I’m always to blame. Everything I say is wrong. She’s even turned him against Dimmie. What shall I do? What shall I do?” and Lucy wrung her hands, her eyes fixed upon Jim’s in hungry appeal.
Sprague stared at her. His own eyes widened. His self control went to the winds.
“Do, Lucy? Do! Why come to me!” he cried, seizing her hand and gripping it until she winced.
“Jim!” she gasped.
“I’ve stood all I can.” His tone grew more intense with each word, “I’ve never been too honest with myself about you, Lucy, but I knew I loved you a long time ago. I’ve resented seeing your youth slipping by, and John not noticing it. I’ve tried not to covet his wife, because I thought he wanted her. But now I’ve got to tell you, Lucy. I want you. And I don’t want just a mystical idea of you either. I love you, dear, and you won’t have to be afraid of my ever stopping. Let’s leave the people who don’t want us and take each other. We know we’re good enough for each other. Come on, Lucy. I need you. You are the only person in the world I ever trusted implicitly. You must. I won’t give you up. I can’t give you up. Lucy, Lucy—”
She had withdrawn her hand from his and was regarding him now with an expression of wonder.
“Why, Jim, what do you mean?” she asked, aghast at his torrent of words. She had never before seen him under stress of uncontrollable excitement.
“I mean what I say. Can’t you see how I love you?”
Lucy had forgotten the troubles which brought her there and rose from her chair with fear in her eyes.
“Stop, Jim,” she commanded. “I’ve trusted you, too, and you have no right to talk this way.”
Jim had risen also, and now he came around the desk and stood in front of her, his eyes seeking hers insistently.
“Right!” he repeated. “I have the right that my love gives me, a love that never let me think of another woman since I first saw you. You’ve trusted me and you ought to have, because I’m worthy to be trusted. You trusted your husband too, and he allows the first miserable flirt that comes into his house to—”
“I’m going, Jim. I can’t listen to such things.” Lucy moved toward the door.
“Stop, Lucy,” he pleaded. “Don’t go.”
She hesitated. Her manner was hunted.
“I’ll talk reasonably,” he promised. He was very pale. His voice was low again. “Sit down, please,” he added as she remained undecided.
She reseated herself, smoothing out her gloves over and over with shaking fingers. Jim took his place in his chair by the desk and picked up the pencil. They regarded each other with fear and questioning. He had the look of a man prepared to overcome hard things.
“I suppose you’re thinking of John’s confidence in me, and what I owe myself in view of it, and all that,” he began.
“No, I don’t judge you. You have always seemed so like a—no, not like a brother, but like a dear friend and comrade that I could always depend on—I never thought—” The words would not come and Lucy continued smoothing her gloves.
Jim had himself in hand again and began speaking very carefully, drawing circles and squares on a piece of paper as he talked.
“John and I have been together nearly all our lives. I am not going to say anything against him, Lucy, but before I knew you I realized that he was—was not as strong as he should be. When I saw you I gave you the devotion of my soul that—I needed somebody, Lucy—that I had been trying to give him, because you were worthy of it. I knew you were the most desirable woman I had ever seen and I acknowledged this to myself without cant. I was proud to give you this honor in my heart, and I was prouder that I gave it to you as you really were. What John gave to you was a hazy outline of a woman seen through a mist of sex idealism. Anyone else would have done as well as you. But I never doubted the reality of his love, such as it was.”
Lucy began to show uneasiness again. Jim noticed it and hastened on.
“When your mother came I realized at once that you were in for a hard time and I stood ready to help John. I saw that she wanted to be a high priestess between you two and I set out to combat her influence over him. I tried my best, but he didn’t want any help. He could have stood with you and it would have been easy, for your mother is too cowardly to carry anything through against opposition. But he fell for any suggestion she put out, and turned against me, which wasn’t so bad, and then against you who were more loyal to him than I even. Every cheap, despicable little woman’s trick that a baby could see through was another excuse for turning away from the straightest and most lovable woman in the world and putting a little contemptible, shallow—”
“Jim, please,” interrupted Lucy, stretching out her hand and touching his.
His body stiffened at the contact, but with a strong effort he restrained himself from another outburst.
“Lucy, I can’t help it. His idea of woman is the harem idea. He doesn’t want you because you are too big and too good. She suits him better. They don’t want you. They don’t want us. We’ve only got each other. We need each other, Lucy. I would never have said a word or made a sign if he’d been square—if he’d appreciated you and wanted you. But you’ve wanted honesty in your relation with him, and he couldn’t stand it. He’s failed. He’s had his chance. You don’t owe him anything more, and I don’t. We’re free, Lucy. We’re free to take each other. My darling, if you knew how I love you—” His voice grew husky with emotion.
Lucy rose again, pale as he. Jim sprang to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Lucy! You can’t, you shan’t leave me without saying you love me. I won’t allow you to let a convention rob you of my love. You’re mine, Lucy, mine, mine, mine!” and he strained her to him.
For an instant her resistance was broken and she rested in his arms as though it were at last a place where she could be safe. Then she gently drew herself away and Jim sank into the chair beside her, his head in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” she began in a shaking voice. “I believe you are a noble man, Jim. You stand for more to me now than anyone else in the world, but—I can’t. Poor Jim, I—I—” She was crying softly.
Jim raised his head and looked at her. His eyes hungrily took in the rounded forehead, the straight nose, beautiful in profile, the ear set too high for harmony and spoiling the effect of the line of the jaw, the almost perfect mouth and chin, so appealingly feminine. His gaze devoured her eyes with their clear unflinching depths of honesty, suggesting little of sex as it is generally sought for by men; the brown of her hair with almost golden strands arranged, as always, low on her too generous brow and swept down over her ears with the exact curve that she instinctively knew would hide and pick out all the points that needed suppression or emphasis; her clear skin, so really white and delicate of texture as he knew by the glimpses her morning dresses had given him of her neck down by the shoulder and of the inner surface of her forearms; her hands and feet of normal efficient size, the hands with supple slender fingers widened at the tips; her body, the waist but moderately restricted and the bosom low, suggesting the long and willing nursing of her child—he knew her so well!
Suddenly he groaned. Beads of cold moisture were on his brow.
“I can’t give you up.” He spoke with difficulty. “Lucy, Lucy, he’s not fit for you!”
Lucy did not try to hide the tears that coursed down her cheeks.
“My whole life is yours,” he continued with suppressed intensity. Then, springing to his feet again he strode toward her. “Nothing can keep me away from you, Lucy!” he said hoarsely.
She put out her hand and as it touched his breast he stopped.
“I can’t, Jim! Oh, don’t you see I can’t?” she begged.
Then she turned and went swiftly out of the office.
Jim stared at the closed door for several minutes. At last he sat down slowly at his desk. He covered his face with his hands and began to sob.
Lucy walked the streets and the park until dusk.
When she reached home neither John nor Nannie was there.
“Dey’s done et deir dinnah. I ’lows dey’s gone to de t’eayter, Miss Lucy,” volunteered Katy.
Dimmie was asleep on the sofa in the dining room. Lucy carried him upstairs and undressed him.
When the child, whom she but half awakened, had gone to sleep again she lay face downward on the bed and wept until John and Nannie were heard ascending the stairs.
Lucy did not go to breakfast the next morning. Katy came up with a tray.
“I don’t care for any, thank you,” Lucy said through the locked door.
When she descended the stairs she was surprised to find John still at home, smoking by the dining room table. Mrs. Merwent was not to be seen.
“Aren’t you going to the office?” Lucy inquired of him.
“No. I want to talk to you,” he answered. His face was stern and his voice was cold.
“Where’s Mother?”
“She has gone some place with Miss Powell.”
Lucy seated herself by the window.
“I came back to the office yesterday evening,” John began.
Lucy looked at him.
“As I came around the corner I saw you coming out of the building. I went in to see if there were any letters and Jim Sprague was there alone, and, what is more, he seemed very surprised to see me.”
“Well?” Lucy’s tone was dull.
“I want to know what this means. That’s what I want to know.” His voice grew less controlled as he proceeded.
They gazed at each other with hostile faces. Dimmie entered the room.
“I’m ready to go to Mrs. Hamilton’s,” he announced.
Lucy kissed him, inspected his clothes, and straightened his hat.
“Goodbye, little son,” she smiled.
“Goodbye, Papa,” Dimmie called as he went out.
“Goodbye,” John responded impatiently.
“What do you send that boy over to Mrs. Hamilton’s every day for?” he demanded harshly.
“To go to kindergarten.”
“Kindergarten! There’s no sense in his going to kindergarten in the summer. But if there was, why couldn’t he go from here?”
“He could.”
“Then what’s the use of bothering your neighbors?”
“I send him early so as to get him away from Mother as much as possible,” admitted Lucy.
“We’ll discuss that later,” John’s lip curled, “but first I want an explanation of why you went to the office yesterday.”
“I shall explain nothing, John,” Lucy answered.
“Did you see Jim Sprague?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, didn’t you know I wouldn’t be there?”
“I did.”
“Then why did you pick out a day when I would be away?”
“I wanted to see Jim alone.”
“What for?” John’s face grew redder.
“I wanted to consult him.”
“Alone?” sneered John.
“Yes, alone.”
“What did you need to consult him about?” John demanded in a more peremptory tone.
“That is my own affair, John.”
“Well, it just isn’t your own affair. I’m not going to stand this kind of thing any longer.”
“Neither am I.”
“You won’t have to,” snarled John.
“Exactly. I have decided just that.”
He stared at her in astonishment.
“What do you mean, Lucy?” He lowered his voice.
“I mean that I am going to leave.”
“With Jim Sprague?” John almost shouted, springing to his feet and walking back and forth.
“Katy will hear you, John.”
“Damn Katy! I don’t care who hears!” he snapped.
“Very well then. Neither do I,” returned Lucy calmly.
“I’ll just tell you one thing right here,” John continued, “and that is that you and Jim Sprague are not going to take my child away from me.” He was breathing heavily and his eyes were suffused.
“We will settle about the child legally,” replied Lucy, in the same manner, “but you are mistaken about Jim. I am not going away with him. I am going alone.”
“How will you support yourself? I suppose your father’s wife will do that.” John almost ground his teeth.
“She knows nothing about my plans. I shall do anything I can to earn a living for myself and Dimmie. Miss Storms will take me in till I can get started. I can do book binding. I don’t intend ever to be dependent on anybody again.”
A frightened expression came into John’s eyes.
“Lucy, you are crazy! You’re trying to scare me. What reason have you got for leaving your home—your husband and child?”
“I don’t intend to leave my child!” she retorted.
John gazed at her in silence, his face paling. When he spoke again his manner was conciliatory.
“Lucy! Lucy, you don’t know what you are saying.”
“Yes, I do. I know precisely what I am saying.”
“Lucy,” John was on the defensive now. “I can’t understand what has changed you so. I’m not accusing you of anything in regard to Jim Sprague, but it’s natural that I shouldn’t want you to get yourself talked about. You used to think I was always right, but now you seem almost to despise me.” His voice quivered a little. “Let’s talk things over, Lucy, and not go on like this.” The last words were almost beseeching.
“Very well, John, if you really want to talk over matters and are ready to see things squarely, I am ready, too, but if not, I have made up my mind and know exactly what I shall do.”
John sat down again and tried to light a cigarette, but his hand shook so that he desisted and put the cigarette in his pocket.
“What is it, Lucy?” he asked at length.
“Well, in the first place, my mother must leave here.”
“Now, Lucy,” he began querulously, “I knew you were going to say that. Why you should be so prejudiced and so vindictive against Nannie is beyond me. What earthly reason is there for putting her in the street—for she’s got no place to go if she leaves here!”
“If you hadn’t flattered her and influenced her she would probably have been married by now.”
“Lucy!” John was horror stricken. “Married to that—!” He could not find a word to express his feelings. “You are absolutely without heart, Lucy,” he protested.
“Well, if you insist on her staying,” cried Lucy, rising from her chair, “I will apply for a divorce and the custody of my child and will name my mother as correspondent in the case!”
“Lucy!” articulated John. “You’re crazy!”
“No, I’m not crazy,” she went on tensely. “That’s a dozen times you’ve told me I was since she came, but I’m not. You are the one who is crazy, and if you can’t come to your senses in any other way, I’ll bring you to them right now.”
“You wouldn’t dare do such a thing, Lucy! Why, it’s ridiculous,” John argued. “How could you prove such a fantastic joke? Where are your witnesses?” John grew almost hysterical. “You’re crazy, Lucy!”
“You’ll find out I’m sane.” Lucy’s calm was ominous. “There are witnesses enough to prove what she is—my father, Miss Storms, Jim Sprague, the Hamiltons, the two servants we’ve had, and plenty in Russellville. If you think it’s a joke, John Winter, you just go on and find out who the joke is on. Everybody but you sees through her contemptible tricks. I won’t stand it!” she continued wildly. “I’ll go right now. I’m going to kindergarten to get Dimmie. Oh, to think that I ever thought I loved such a pitiable excuse for a man! Let me get away from the sight of you! I hate you! I despise you! I—I—oh! How can I say what I feel for you! Get out of my way!” and she started swiftly for the hall door.
John caught hold of her hand.
“Don’t touch me again—ever—ever!” she almost screamed, wrenching herself free.
“Lucy, Lucy—please—how can you say such things!” John was cowed. He regarded her pleadingly. Tears were in his eyes.
Lucy stood pale and defiant, her eyes shining as if with exaltation.
“Then choose this instant between me and my mother!” she commanded hotly.
“I will, Lucy—I will. If you think best for her to go, I won’t say anything more. But, Lucy—”
“There are no ‘buts’ about it,” interrupted Lucy remorselessly.
“I don’t mean that I want her to stay,” explained John hastily, “but you hurt me so when you say such awful things. You have told me a thousand times how you looked up to me, and now, after what you have said, I can never feel that you respect me.” He appeared almost ridiculously like a small boy.
“You’ve hurt me, John, for a long time, and that’s why I said them,” Lucy replied more gently.
John sat down in a chair and buried his face in his hands. Suddenly he began to sob, his shoulders heaving and the tears dripping through his fingers. Lucy hesitated and then came slowly up to him and laid her hand on his hair.
“Don’t, John,” she entreated in a soft, almost maternal tone.
“You’ve hurt—me—so,” he faltered abjectly, his voice choked.
“Have I, John? Poor boy! Oh, John, why couldn’t you see without all this?” she whispered wistfully.
“Lucy—” John reached up and put his arm around her. “Lucy—you didn’t mean all those things you said about—about—me—about my being—only an excuse for a man, and about—despising me?” He still kept one hand over his eyes.
Lucy hesitated an instant.
“No—John. I don’t think I really meant them,” she admitted.
John reached for his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
“And you didn’t mean that you hated me?” He pulled her down to his knee. “You still love me, don’t you, Lucy?”
“Yes, John, I still love you.”
They sat several minutes in silence.
“Now I’m going down to the office.” He lifted Lucy up gently and rose from his chair.
She followed him to the hall.
“Goodbye,” he said. He took up his hat and held out his arms. She came into them and he kissed her forehead as of old.
“Goodbye, dear. Come home as early as you can.” Lucy smiled at him as he went down the steps.
She watched him as he halted in the gateway to light a cigarette.