|
Book 1Twelve
The next afternoon Lucy was walking slowly over toward Michigan Avenue. She had never loved the city so much; the city which gave one the freedom to spend one`s youth as one pleased, to have one`s secret, to choose one`s master and serve him in one`s own way. Yesterday`s rain had left a bitter, springlike smell in the air; the vehemence that beat against her in the street and hummed above her had something a little wistful in it tonight, like a plaintive hand-organ tune. All the lovely things in the shop windows, the furs and jewels, roses and orchids, seemed to belong to her as she passed them. Not to have wrapped up and sent home, certainly; where would she put them? But they were hers to live among.
At last it was five o`clock, the grey twilight was gone, and she turned toward the Arts Building. She was frightened as she went up in the elevator, and tried not to think at all. She lifted the brass knocker, and Sebastian opened the door. Before she had time to speak, just as she was, in her hat and coat, he took her in his arms.
They stood for a long while without moving, in the dusky little hall among overcoats and walking-sticks. Lucy felt him take everything that was in her heart; there was nothing to hold back any more. His soft, deep breathing seemed to drink her up entirely, to take away all that was timid, uncertain, bewildered. Something beautiful and serene came from his heart into hers; wisdom and sadness. If he took her secret, he gave her his in return; that he had renounced life. Nobody would ever share his life again. But he had unclouded faith in the old and lovely dreams of man; that he would teach her and share with her. When they went into the music room, neither of them had spoken.
The tea things were set out before the fire. The kettle had almost boiled dry, and Sebastian went to fill it, leaving Lucy alone in a room which she seemed unable to enter. The piano and the book- shelves were far away, out of reach; and she was far away from herself. She felt as if everything were on the point of vanishing. Now that he knew, he might think it his duty to let her go. He could sweep her existence blank with one word.
He came back, came and stood before her, but she could not look up until she heard her name.
"Don`t be frightened, Lucy. I am not going to make love to you. Though it`s true enough I love you." He sat down on the arm of her chair. "Why do you crouch away from me like that? And your little hands are so cold. What are you afraid of?"
"I don`t know--of things being different. Maybe you won`t let me come and play for you any more. Please don`t send me away. I won`t be a bother."
"Send you away? I`m afraid I`m not so unselfish. Perhaps I ought. But it isn`t as if you were really in love. I am quite old enough to be your father, you know. You are merely growing up,--and finding things. It was just that freshness which charmed me, I thought. But now I believe I love everything about you, Lucy. The mornings used to be dull and heavy here. You brought something sweet into them. I began to watch for you from the window, and when I caught sight of you tripping along in the wind, my heart grew lighter. I love young ardour, young fire. I had a nice boy in my house once; but he had to go away to school. What a difference you have made in my life here! When you knocked, it was like springtime coming in at the door. I went to work with more spirit because things were new and wonderful to you."
Lucy pressed her face against his shoulder to hide the tears of happiness. When she heard him tell her that she had given him something!--and only a little while ago that had seemed the most extravagant of all hopes, so foolish that she was ashamed of it, even in the dark. Lying there she felt herself drifting again into his breathing, into his heart-beats. She knew this could not last; in a moment she must gather herself up and be herself again. Yet she knew, too, that it would last a lifetime.
There was a light, familiar knock at the door. She drew away and went over to the fireplace. Giuseppe always knocked like that before he entered with his latch-key. He stuck his head in and asked whether the Signore was ready to dress.
Sebastian told him to come in and lay his clothes out quickly. "I have a dinner engagement, Lucy, and I shall take you home on the way. Wait here for me a few moments. I shan`t be long."
He disappeared with Giuseppe, and Lucy sat down in the chair she had quitted. She sat without stirring, her hands lying open in her lap, listening to the faint noises that came up from the street.
In twenty minutes Sebastian came out in his dinner coat. "Can you change as quickly as that, Lucy?" He was standing before the fire, putting on his white gloves, when a latch-key scratched at the door. It opened, and in walked James Mockford, also in a dinner coat; a silk hat on the back of his head and a cane in his hand. Seeing Lucy, he removed his hat and bowed.
"Come in, Jimmy! Where did you drop from?" Sebastian called jovially. Mockford was already in, and Lucy thought he needed no encouragement. There was something impertinent about the way he entered the room.
"From my lodgings. I`m dining with friends, and I thought you might give me a lift in your cab."
Sebastian laughed, as if he liked his coolness. "Sorry, but I`m afraid you`ll have to purchase a cab for yourself tonight. I`m taking Miss Gayheart home. However, if you choose to wait here, I suppose I might come back for you."
"Thanks. I`ll wait." Mockford put his overcoat and hat on the piano and limped over to the table, where he began eating the sandwiches that had been meant for tea. He looked into each of the two unused cups and wrinkled his nose. Lucy watched him in amazement. She wondered whether he did use white paint, or a liquid powder, on his face at night. He glanced at Sebastian over his plate of sandwiches.
"Wearing a ribbon, I see?"
"The dinner is given for the Belgian Minister."
This time Lucy thought Sebastian spoke rather frigidly. She noticed a tiny purple knot in his lapel. Giuseppe brought his overcoat.
Mockford finished the sandwiches and wiped his fingers.
"How long shall you be gone?"
"Oh, I can stop for you in twenty minutes or so."
"Will you send the hall porter up for me when you come? I don`t care to stand about down there on my bad leg. Good night, Miss Gayheart." He half rose when she got up to go, but dropped back immediately. As she went out, she saw him stretched in the deepest chair, his lame foot on the couch, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.
"Mustn`t let Mockford get on your nerves," Sebastian told her, as he got into the cab after her and shut the door. He patted Lucy`s arm soothingly when she tried to protest. "Oh, my dear, I can read your face like a book! You haven`t much skill in dissimulation. Jimmy is rather brassy at times,--fault of his early training. He came out of the slums, really. Mrs. Sebastian found him for me. A friend of her father discovered this queer, talented, tricky boy. He`s all right at bottom, but he`s not well. That makes him peevish. Just now he`s fighting with me; for his rights, he says. Some of his cronies have put it into his head that he ought to be printed on my programs as assisting artist instead of accompanist. I won`t have it, and he`s sulky."
Lucy wanted to say a great deal, but she only brought out: "In general, then, you think he`s--loyal?"
Sebastian laughed. "Loyal? As loyal as anyone who plays second fiddle ever is. We mustn`t expect too much!"
|
